


(Heartstrings)

by ShameTheDevil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Bad Advice, Bad Parenting, Boggarts, Bruises, Canon deaths, Caring!Ron, Charlie fucking Weasley, Cuddling, Detentions, Dom/sub Undertones, Draco blames himself, Draco is seriously broken, Draco just needs hugs, Draco needs hugs, Easter, Family, Fights, Fingering, Freckles, Gentle Sex, Good mom!Molly, Hate to Love, Heats, Height Differences, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mates! AU, Minor Character Death, Omega Verse, Panic Attacks, Quidditch, Rain, Rimming, Ron is protective af, Ron is slowly falling for Draco, Ron loves him, Safewords, Self Harm, Smut, after the war, broken!Draco, but he wont admit it, dark themes, dunno, epilogue coming, happy endings, infidelity(kinda), insecure!Draco, love and dat, preferably from Ron, throwing up, trust excercises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShameTheDevil/pseuds/ShameTheDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witches and Wizards live in a world where you're either an Alpha, a Beta or an Omega. They also live in a world where you have an assigned mate. Draco hates his mate. Ron hates him right back.<br/>But...<br/>but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Alpha's and Omega's

**Chapter 1: Of Alpha's and Omega's**

_Witches and Wizards live in a society where everyone is either an Alpha, Beta or Omega. This trait came from werewolves, who centuries ago mated with wizards, creating half-magical, half-wolf children who mated with more humans. After thousands of years the other werewolf traits faded, all by one. The Alpha's were strong, protective and fierce, meant to defend what is theirs including their mates. Omega's were skilled magicians but less physically fit and designed to carry children...however after some times, male Omegas were born despite being unable to get pregnant. Beta's were in-between the two, and could mate with either, although Alpha's could not mate with other Alpha's, or Omega's with other Omega's._

_When a Witch or Wizard turned nineteen, they made a connection with their mate and it was up to them to come together. Mates had a strong emotional and physical connection and if either one tried to deny that, it would cause them discomfort or even pain. Hurting your mate meant also hurting yourself, and barely anyone could resist the pull of their bond. Normally a member of the Ministry of Magic would either visit or send a letter to a Wizard, informing them about if they were an Alpha, Beta or Omega, alongside with the name of their mate._

For Draco Malfoy it was different. Because Draco Malfoy decided to stay in Hogwarts for his eight year. So did his mate. 

***

Things were different around Hogwarts after the second Wizarding War. Minerva McGonagall was the headmistress and she overlooked the restoration of Hogwarts personally. After four months there was barely a trace after the battle, except for the ghosts of the dead and the memorials right outside the walls. Everything else had been cleaned and built again and the school seemed almost back the way it was. Most of the teachers remained as well, which added to the familiar feeling. Because they missed their seventh year, Draco's year group was invited back to Hogwarts for an additional year. Some declined, after having enough magic thrills to last them a lifetime, but a good portion of the students decided to return.  

They were assigned to new rooms in the Dungeons, and houses were forgotten. They became one big group, with separate rooms for each of them. They still had a common room with moving paintings and cackling fireplaces. A magical hole in the ceiling, not unlike the one in the Great Hall, showed them the sky during the day and the galaxy during the night. Old, miss-matched sofas and armchairs dotted the room, and all four banners of each house hung from the walls. Draco's room was respectably silver and green, but he allowed himself to place other colours around the chamber, something he was too afraid to do in his old dorm. He hated to admit it but their new dormitory felt more like home than the Slytherin common room had ever.

Everyone seemed to forgive and forget, and people for all houses mixed together daily, leaving behind disagreements and wrongs they did one another. After all the horrors of the war they needed each other's strength. Draco kept to himself, his old snark seemed to leave him and he no longer felt the need to make anyone's life miserable. He knew well enough the part his family played in the War, and it wasn't a good part. His father was in Azkaban, his mother holed up in the Malfoy Manor. They lost their wealth, their homes in France and Germany. 'Malfoy' was no longer a name of power and pride, but the name of a traitor. Despite changing sides when it truly mattered, Draco still felt horribly like an outsider, even with his other Slytherins, and he often wondered if he made a mistake retuning to Hogwarts.

***

"You guys ready for tonight?" Blaise's deep voice reached Draco across the room, where he was curled up in an armchair, doing his homework. He was only half concentrating, his attention drawn to the conversation in the opposite corner.

"Oh please," it was Ginny's voice now. Despite being a year younger, she often came down to the Eight year common room, to lounge in her boyfriend's lap, "I was _born_ ready."

"That's because you know that Harry is your mate," Hermione chided, "but what if it turns out that you're the Alpha and he's the Omega?"

"Well...," Ginny didn't sound too bothered, "I do like being in control."

A burst of laughter drifted over and then Draco very clearly heard Harry and Ginny kiss. He fought a cringe and tried to go back to work, but his mind was too distracted to write more than two more words on the parchment. Besides, the conversation was more interesting.

"So what do you think everyone will be?" Harry asked,

"I sure hope I'm an Alpha," Seamus said, "or a Beta. What 'bout you, Ron?"

"Ron's an Alpha," Luna's dreamy voice mumbled, "that much is obvious..."

When Draco risked a glance over his shoulder he saw Weasley's face burning red. He looked away quickly, his hands tightening on his quill. He knew what tonight was...the thirtieth of December, the day that it was announced who you were and who you were destined to be with. Draco had already had samples taken; blood, hair, magic, everything to figure out who he was. He hated labels and now he was subjected to being forced under one. _I am an Alpha,_ he told himself stubbornly when his hands began to shake with nerves, _I'm too strong to be anything else...well, perhaps a Beta. But I could not possibly be an Omega..._

He didn't write another word, his heart pounding, his stomach churning as the minutes ticked on. Hermione, Ginny and Harry went down first, arm in arm, chattering. To get in and out of the common room you had to have a key, simple as that. There were no ridiculous riddles or weird tap patterns or angry paintings to pass. It was just a lock and a key. But the lock knew it you were unwelcome.

Draco waited, staring into the flames as one after the other the Eight years drifted from the common room, talking and joking, passing through the doors. Draco's heart was in his throat and he felt like crawling under his covers and never coming out. He was so scared of what would happen downstairs, but he didn't know why. He just felt sick and angry and afraid all at once, and it was making him tremble.

"Draco?" Luna Lovegood was the only one who talked to Draco as if she didn't get the memo about him being an outcast...or maybe she did get it but just didn't care, "Are you coming down?"

She had not changed at all, her hair was the same platinum blonde and she had stripy tights underneath her paint stained skirt. No matter how many times Draco tried to chase her off and get her to leave him alone, she never did. And he was a bit glad about that, because he truly hated being alone.

"Yes," he lied and stood up, smoothing out his shirt, making sure all his buttons were done up. Luna smiled at him and flicked a piece of blonde hair off of his forehead. She seemed perfectly at ease, "Aren't you nervous?"

The girl shrugged, "Whatever happens, happens," she said, "I don't mind. I know who I am, no matter if I'm an Alpha or Omega or Beta," she slid her arm through his and together they walked to the door. Draco's heart was in his throat as they walked down the stone corridors but he let Luna's easy chatter about Crumple Horned Storkack's. Draco wished he could be as calm about the whole ordeal as her, but when they entered the Great Hall with all its floating candles and long, empty benches, the boy just felt more tense. He didn't know when Hogwarts stopped feeling like home. Maybe when he let the Deatheaters through the cupboard in the Room of Requirements.  ..

All of the eighth years were gathered around the teachers table, where McGonagall was waiting, her face pinched and neutral as usual. She waved Draco and Luna over and the two blondes hurried their step. When they were all around her, the woman cleared her throat,

"As you know," she began in her no-nonsense voice, "When a Witch or Wizard turn nineteen, they are identified as either an Omega, Beta or an Alpha. Because this year you are all still at Hogwarts, we decided to wait for all of you so you could all know at the same time," her sharp cat-like eyes swiped over the students, "some of you will have mates at this school, and suitable changes will be made to the rooms to...err...," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "but some of you," she continued quickly, "will have mates outside of Hogwarts, perhaps in a different country. Do not fret for you will be allowed to leave and meet them," she rubbed her wrinkled cheek and Draco wondered if she ever had a mate, and what happened to them, "Let us not drag this on further," the teacher clapped her hands and dozens of envelopes appeared above the heads of the students. They were creamy, with tiny little wings like clouds sticking out from the papers. They fluttered down from the ceiling and found their way into the recipient's hands.

Draco's fingers were shaking as they closed over the paper. It was smooth against his palms and the boy could hear ripping all around him as the students impatiently opened their letters. The Slytherin gulped as blood rushed to his head, and ran his hands over the writing on the envelope.

_Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy,_

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

The boy tried to steady his breath and hands as he gently opened the envelope and eased out the paper. It was a pale brown colour, the ink black, and then Draco couldn't stop himself from reading the neatly written out words, no matter how much he wanted to delay the moment.

_THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_Minister of Magic: Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_We are pleased to inform you that after a full examination, it has been concluded that you are an OMEGA._

Draco stared at the paper and his heart clenched. He read the word over and over and over. _Impossible,_ he thought helplessly, _impossible my father was an Alpha, and his father before him..._ Draco felt like he was going to be sick, his heart thudded against his ribs as he wanted to cry and scream and rip the letter to pieces. He wondered if he could pretend that it never existed, that he could lie about being it. Maybe there was a mistake...Draco's treacherous eyes were not satisfied with this horrid information, and they had to travel lower. What the blonde read next made his whole body tense and his stomach do a weird little flip.

_We are also incredibly pleased to inform you that your mate has been identified as MR RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY. For further questions please contact the ministry of magic._

_Carmella Stacker, Administrative Registration Department._

Draco's hands shook harder, the paper scrunching up in his grip. He didn't dare look up, knowing that Weasley was probably holding the same letter, reading the same words. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand anything. How could Weasley be his mate?! That ginger beast, stupid and worthless and _ginger._ Wasn't Draco's mate meant to be someone who'd love him and who he could love back?!

The Slytherin shoved the paper into his pocket and without a word he turned on his heel and ran from the hall as if he was thirteen again, trying to escape Hermione Granger's fist. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn't let them fall, not yet. He heard Luna calling after him but he didn't stop. The corridors felt too hot, the stairs  too long. His feet made a loud echoing noise as they slapped the stone. Every inch of Draco hurt and he just wanted...what did he want? He wanted to be anywhere but here, but he had nowhere to go. If he was Harry glorious Potter or one of his sidekicks he would have gone to Hagrid's hut, if he was Neville he would have gone to the Greenhouse, if he was _anyone_ else he could go _anywhere_ else.

But he wasn't. He was Draco Malfoy and he had no business in Hogwarts. Not after the war.

The boy made it as far as third floor bathrooms before he couldn't hold it in anymore, and he collapsed against a wall. Sobs shook his body and he tried to get them to stop immediately, to stop himself being so fucking pathetic, but he couldn't. He shook and even his dark mark seemed to burn, even though it hadn’t pained him since Voldemort's death.

 _Stop it!_ Draco shouted at himself in his head, _You're a Malfoy stop crying!_ But he couldn't. He curled up into a ball and buried his face in his hands and cried at how unfair the world was. He wasn't loud, afraid of attracting any attention, his voice muffled by his robes. He just wanted to disappear, to die, to be anywhere but here. He wanted life to be the way it was before the Dark Lord ruined all of it, before Draco lost everything and everyone.

"Malfoy."

He hadn't heard her come in but when he looked up, red-faced with puffy eyes, Granger was standing over him. Her hair was pulled out of her face and her warm brown eyes were looking down at him. She had the most unbearable soft expression on her face.

"I thought you could read, Granger," Draco hissed as a line of defence because he was truly nothing but a pitiful traitor crying on the bathroom floor, "This is a _boy's_ bathroom."

"Would you drop that?" Granger sighed. She squatted down so she was eye-level with Draco, "Ron's one of my best friends. If you're his mate we should try to get along."

"I am not his mate," Draco growled. Granger gave him a sad look and reached out but he flinched away, "Don't touch me," Draco rose to his feet, feeling anger bubble up inside him. Anger was better than fear and sadness and he welcomed it with open arms, "I am not your friend. I will never be your friend," he spat, "you're just a filthy mudblood and Weasley is...i-is...," Draco had no words to describe Weasley. None came to mind, so instead he just shoved past Granger and out of the bathroom.

The boy wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took a deep breath and strode down the stairs to the Eighth year dormitories. His anger was just beneath the surface, ready to explode, his hand curled into fists. Draco knew exactly who he would take it out on; Ron fucking Weasley.

The commotion in the common room was unreal. Some of the couples that had been revealed to be mates, like Terry and Hannah, were sitting around and holding hands, big smiles on their faces. Others were frantically trying to locate what country their mates were in, shoving maps and phones around. But the biggest crowd was gathered around Weasley.

Magically, the rooms have shifted around, creating new, joined ones with bigger, king-sized beds and more space. Weasley stood in front of one and Draco heard him before he even saw him.

"...what am I meant to do?!" he exclaimed to his friends, "that little shit will probably try and kill me in my sleep! Oh Merlin...it's just my luck! George will have a fit, and mom...ugh, why a _Malfoy_?! Out of all the fucked up people-"

"I'm glad you think so highly of me," Draco said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring, despite his heart pounding in his chest. He hoped the Gryffindor couldn't tell that he had been crying. The group of teens parted and Draco came face to face with Weasley.

He wanted to say that somehow the other boy had changed in his eyes, but to Draco he _still_ looked just like that morning; messy red hair, unevenly buttoned shirt, angry blue eyes, and freckles sprinkled across his face. He was glaring heatedly and Draco had to crane his neck up to return the look.

"Malfoy," the ginger growled.

"Weasley," Draco smiled mockingly, the people around him staring openly but at least they stopped the whispers, "I believe you're standing in _my_ doorway."

" _Your_ doorway?!" Weasley snorted, "are you deaf or blind? Didn't you read your damn letter."

"The letter is _wrong,_ " Draco's heart stuttered in his chest but he fought to keep his face neutral, "there is a mistake. So get out of my room."

"Stop acting all high and mighty-" Weasley started.

"We are _not_ having this conversation."

"Why do you have to be such a prick?!"

"Go sleep in precious Potter's room, or in Granger's," Draco fumed, face red. He couldn't stand it. _Your mate should always love and protect you,_ his mother had told him before she went made with grief, _and you should love them too..._ "or anywhere else. Just get out of my godamned room!" Draco's voice rose steadily, "I don't want to be your mate and I don't want to share a room with you and I don't want to look at you," he came closer to Weasley with every word until he was all up in his personal space. The boy looked taken aback when Draco growled through his teeth, "So get out of my room, _Weasley_."

To his surprise, Weasley let him pass and the second Draco was in the familiar darkness of the room he slammed the door shut. Shakily, he pulled out his wand and muttered,

" _Silencio_ ," and then, " _Colloportus."_

When the door clicked, indicating that it had locked, the boy looked around in distaste, trying to control himself. It looked as if his and Weasley's room had been combined to one. His silver drapes still hung over the small window, and his candles stood in the corner, alongside his trunk. There was a picture of him and his mother, a quill and some paper, a stack of expensive, old books. But mixed in with that was Weasley's quidditch broom and his clothes strewn across the room, a dozen frames with him and his family, the stupid freckly Weasley's. They were all grinning at Draco from the frames, waving, and he looked at them in disgust. He turned to the bed and found that it was a double now, with a dark red canopy overhead. _Why did it have to be red?_ Draco thought sourly as he collapsed on the blankets. He was ready for the day to end, he was ready to wake up and prove that the whole ordeal was a mistake...it had to be. He couldn't be Weasley's mate.

***

Maybe Draco would've never left the room and starved to death if it wasn't for Luna and, surprise surprise, Granger.

"Malfoy," the Gryffindor said, voice muffled by the doors, "You need to eat something."

"Don't tell me what to do," Draco grumbled into the pillow, though he doubted the girls could hear him. He had had the worst night's sleep, and his dreams – or nightmares – have been filled with glaring blue eyes and freckles. So many freckles. Draco shuddered into the blankets.

"Draco," this time it was Luna's dreamy voice, "please come out. We were meant to go to Hogsmeade today. You promised."

Draco groaned, wondering why he even bothered with friends. But Luna was right, he couldn't stay in bed for the rest of his miserable life, avoiding Weasley. _They say you can't resist your mate,_ Draco thought bitterly, _well I guess we'll find out._ He pulled himself out of bed with a lot of effort. Grey sunlight filtered in through the window, cold and sad. It made Draco even more miserable.

When he walked into the Great Hall, Granger and Luna flanking his sides, he didn't even bother to look at Weasley. He felt absolutely  nothing, no pull towards him, no imaginary rope pulling him along. Nothing. The thought made him smile as he sat himself down at the end of the Slytherin table. _Maybe I can just ignore it. Ignore that we're mates, and it will all go away..._ Granger disappeared but Luna sat with him. She never did pay attention to Houses and rules and where she was supposed to sit.

"So," she said, as if the morning was just like any other, "my father wrote about the newest edition of the Quibbler."

Food appeared on plates, bacon and sausages and toast and beans, but Draco didn't flinch, already used to it. He let Luna talk, only half listening, as he reached for a croissant. He was aware of eyes studying him, the whispers at the back of his head, and he tried not to listen or look. He made sure he looked immaculate that morning; hair perfectly brushed, robes ironed. He made sure that nobody could see how much he had been crying. And nobody did. He was a Malfoy after all, and he had a great poker face.

"Luna," he interrupted the girl halfway through her sentence, but she didn't seem to mind, "You never told me what you were identified as."

Luna bit into a peanut-butter, jelly and bacon sandwich,

"Oh," she said and smile, jam in the corner of her mouth as she finished chewing, "I don't think it matters, but I am a Beta, if that makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't," Draco glared at his cup of tea. _It wouldn't have been that bad if I was a Beta,_ he thought glumly. He dared a look at the Gryffindor table and saw the back of Weasley, he was gesturing wildly, halfway through a conversation. Draco huffed under his breath. He would not let that...that _imbecile_ anywhere near his bed. Just the thought made him blush.

The boy turned back to Luna, "So who's your mate?" he asked, food abandoned, wanting desperately to forget about his own troubles. Luna didn't reply and Draco frowned, "it can't be as bad as mine, surely..."

Luna shrugged and for a second she looked sad before smiling, "I have no mate."

Draco blinked, "W-What?"

"It happens sometimes," Luna poured some juice for herself, as if talking about the weather, her voice soft and dreamy, "when your heart doesn't match anyone else's you can't be matched to anyone. You can't be in love with anyone...I don't mind, truly. I have my friends, I have you and my dad. I don't need a mate."

"Luna," Draco didn't know whether to be horrified or sad or sorry, "It's not about hearts or a-anything like that...it must be a mistake."

"Like you and Ron?" Luna asked. Draco flinched and bit his lip. He suddenly realized that he wasn't the worst off. At least he had _someone,_ even if he didn't want him. At least he wasn't destined to be alone. The boy didn't know what to tell Luna, so he just reached across the bench and took her hand.

***

"What is he doing?!" Ron growled. He was never much good at whispering and some heads swivelled towards them at his words.

"Will you quiet down?" Harry sighed, buttering his toast, "You're making a scene. Again."

"Well excuse me," Ron's glare grew more heated, "but you have no right to talk. _Oh, me and Ginny are mates let's run off and get married and have loads of babies_ ,"  he imitated Harry's voice. Hermione snorted into her juice, "not everyone is as lucky as you! Some of us are stuck with blonde devils for mates," Ron glanced over his shoulder at Malfoy, "and by 'some of us' I mean me. I am stuck with a blonde devil for a mate," he finished with a dramatic sigh and buried his face in his hands. He wasn't eating, which was a first.

Hermione patted his shoulder comfortingly, unable to keep the smile from her face, "At least he's good looking."

"No he's not," Ron whined like a child. He felt like kicking something. Preferably Malfoy.

"It could be worse," Harry offered, "He could be...err...um...," he tried to think of what could be worse.

"Any more bright thoughts, Harry?" Hermione asked. The raven haired boy shrugged,

"Leave me out of it," he said and stood up to go talk to Ginny. Ron sighed again. He really did have rotten luck. Of course he was an Alpha, which had come as a relief, but _Malfoy._ Not only was he a traitor, he bore a dark mark and he had a stupid smirk and he was stuck up and... _ugh._ Sleeping on the couch really didn't help Ron's mood, all his bones were stiff now.

"Relax," Hermione urged, "You two need to get along sooner or later."

"Isn't there a way to avoid this?" Ron grumbled, "someway to...I don't know...change it?"

Hermione shook her head, "Hey," she said and touched his cheek, "chin up. It's not that bad. At least he's cute."

"No he's not," Ron mumbled weakly.


	2. Of Christmas and Detentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please leave comments and kudos my lovelies xx

**Chapter 2: Of Christmas and Detentions**

The Malfoy Manor had always been dark and bleak and cold, especially during the dark lord's stay. But even after everyone had disappeared, either killed or exiled or imprisoned, and it was just Narcissa and the house elves, the manor remained gloomy. Draco hated it.

When he returned for Christmas he felt sick when he saw the black walls with the peeling tapestry and the dusty drawn curtains, blocking out the cold winter light. He often wondered if there was even a place for him anywhere, if there was a place he could call home. The Manor had never been a true home, and Hogwarts...well, Hogwarts wasn't home _anymore_. Draco remembered a time when he used to be comfortable everywhere, respected everywhere...and now that he was a 'traitor' he began realizing how _unlikeable_ he was. Maybe that's why nobody would talk to him, because he was such a stuck up prick. Getting everything taken from you really put things in perspective.

The house elves welcomed Draco and took his baggage but his mother didn't come to greet him. Draco had to drag his feet through the cold hallway and into the living room, where she was. He wondered if she even remembered that he was coming for Christmas.

Narcissa was curled up in one of her armchairs, an untouched cup of tea in front of her. Where she once had been a regal, proud wife she was now no more than a broken woman. Her silvery hair was greasy and tangled, covering her tired, weary face.

"Mother," Draco said softly. Her eyes were hollow, not looking at Draco. Her son felt a pang at the sight but nonetheless, he came over and kissed her pale, cold cheeks, "I'm home."

"Draco," Narcissa reached out and squeezed his hand, and Draco relaxed slightly. At least she knew who he was and the grief hadn't taken all her wits, "How's Hogwarts, my darling?"

"It's good," Draco lied through his teeth, sinking into a chair opposite his mother. He picked at the cuffs of his shirt nervously, "I...," he cleared his throat, "we got our alignments."

"That's good," Narcissa seemed detached, her clouded, unfocused eyes shifted to the door, "When is your father going to be back? I don't know what time to announced dinner for," she asked, smiling softly to herself and playing with a strand of her hair, "Severus is coming too. Isn't it amusing, that he is your professor _and_ your god-father?" when she laughed her voice twinkled, almost like the old times.

Draco felt like crying again. He felt like crying a lot these days, but instead he just took his mother's hand and as gently as he could and said, "Father is not coming back. He's in Azkaban. A-And...and Severus is dead. You must recall, mother."

For a second Narcissa stared at him as if she hadn't heard but then a shadow passed over her face and she snatched her hand from her son, her face becoming pinched and cold all over again,

"Yes," her tone was icy, "of course."

"Mother have you been taking your medicine?" her son asked worriedly, not knowing what to make of his mother's sudden mood change. The woman wasn't looking at him and she didn't reply, hands folded in her lap. Draco wanted to call the house elves to take care of his mother and put her to bed but at the same time he knew that he was responsible for her and it was his job to look after her, no matter how hard it was. He remembered a time when she had been warm and caring, the only person in Draco's life who showed him love. And now even she was stone cold, "Mother. Your medicine?"

"Tell me, Draco," her mouth was in a thin line, "You said you've had your identification," she smoothed out her skirt as if she hadn't heard the boy's question and gave her son an impatient look, "Well...?" she prompted, pale eyebrow raised. Draco swallowed nervously.

"I'm an Alpha, mother," he said, glad that his voice didn't shake, "of course, an Alpha."

She laughed bitterly and Draco's heart plummeted to the dusty carpet,

"Don't _lie_ to me, child," she snapped and narrowed her eyes at the boy. Draco looked away, his heart pounding, his throat dry, "Now. _What are you_?" his mother demanded.

"O-Omega," Draco's whispered as he stared at his hands, clenched in his lap. He didn't see the slap coming, but he probably should have, after all he had plenty of experience with bruises and hits. His head snapped to the side and his cheek stung painfully and suddenly there were tears in his eyes.

"Pathetic," his mother hissed, raising  to her feet, her blanket falling to the ground "Absolutely pathetic. You are a disgrace to the Black and Malfoy families," if Narcissa wasn't a lady she might've spat at her son but instead she just paced around in her cold fury, "My son, a bitch in heat," she shook her head and laughed sourly and collapsed back into the armchair as if she had no strength left.

It went silent. Draco blinked his tears away as his cheek throbbed and his heart hurt.

"Draco?" Narcissa asked softly. He didn't look at her, just stared at his hands. He couldn't control it, he never could. A tear dripped into his lap, "When is your father going to be back?"

***

Grimmauld place was loud and full of people as per usual. Even the horrors of the wall couldn't kill the Christmas spirit. The bigoted paintings and dark tapestries had been pulled down after Harry officially inherited the house, and now the house was almost as warm and homey as the Burrow had been before it burned to the ground. Ron, Ginny and Harry tugged their luggage in as far as the kitchen before they were being assaulted by hugs and kisses and more hugs. Molly Weasley was smiling from ear to ear, embracing all her children, even the unofficial once and chattered happily as she led them all into the warm, wonderfully smelling kitchen.

"You're just in time for dinner, sweeties," she said as she flicked her wand at the stove, letting spoons mix deliciously smelling food in the pots and pans. Ron's eyes sweeped over the long table. All the Weasley's were here, including Charlie, who had come back from Romania, and Bill. The latter sat with Fleur, who was chatting to Mrs Tonks. The woman was the only family that little Teddy, who was sitting in her lap, had. Kingsley, the minister of Magic himself, was there too, in a deep conversation with Mr Weasley.

After a long reunion and many embraces, the family sat down at the table to eat. There was a nervous energy in the air but Ron didn't seem to notice as he was famished, which was common for him, and had a second helping of everything his mother put on the table, talking with Fleur with his mouth still full.

"...and I was thinking to naming 'er 'arriet, in 'onour of 'arry," she said, patting her swollen belly proudly and grinning, "But Bill said no," her expression fell and she pouted, "'e doesn't like the name 'arriet. Can you believe it?" she shook her head, "What do you thinking, Ron?"

"Don't call him Harriet," Ron said, biting into a chicken leg and giving Fleur a disapproving look, "It's a horrible name."

"Oi!" Harry protested from across the table and threw a chip at his best friend. He missed, "Harriet's a cute name," he turned to Fleur, "But seriously, don't name your child after me."

"Name him something nice," Ginny interceded, looking up from her glass of butterbear, "Something French," she mused, "French names sound wonderful."

"What about Lucie?" Hermione asked over her peas, wiping her mouth on a napkin, "or...Victorie?"

"Victorie!" Fleur clapped her hands excitedly as a smile bloomed on her face, "Oh _oui, oui,"_ she grasped Bill's hands in hers, "Victorie, yes?"

"Yes," Bill's eyes softened at her enthusiasm and he kissed his wife's cheek, "We can call her Victorie."

Fleur squealed and Ron felt a pang in his chest. Suddenly he lost his appetite as he thought about his own mate. No way in hell would he and Malfoy ever be able to be like this; like his mom and dad or Fleur and Bill or Harry and Ginny. Holding hands and happy and kissing...

"Alright, alright," with a swipe of Molly's wand, the empty plates flew from the table and floated to the sink where they began washing themselves, "let's not beat around the bush, I am dying of curiosity," she looked at her youngest son and only daughter, "What are you identified as? And who on earth is your mate?! I could barely resist the urge to ask over dinner, but it's bad manners to eat and talk at the same time," she shot Ron a disapproving look.

The boy sighed but Harry and Ginny beamed,

"Well Harry's a Beta!" the girl said, "I don't know what I am yet, not until next year, but I know we are mates."

Everyone cheered and raised their cups to the two and Harry pecked Ginny's cheek affectionately. Ron's stomach churned.

"Oh that is splendid my lovelies," Molly hurried around the table to kiss the two's cheeks vigorously, "Harry you are truly part of the family now!" She turned to Ron, still smiling, "And you, Ron? Come on, don't make us wait!"

Ron stared at the table, his hands clenched in his lap. _You have to tell them. They're your family,_ he told himself. Harry gave him a worried look across the table, Hermione squeezed his shoulder. Ron didn't look up,

"I'm an Alpha," he mumbled, and his mother strained to hear him, "And my mate is Draco Malfoy." He felt hollow saying it, and his heart twisted. A silence settled over the table and it was so unbearable that Ron almost apparated out of there. But then his mother's soft lips were pressed against his cheek and her hands were on his shoulders.

"That's wonderful, Ron," she said softly, and somehow she sounded sincere. Ron looked up but nobody was judging him, or looking at him in disgust or making cruel remarks. Even Percy was smiling. The youngest Weasley boy allowed himself a nervous grin too.

***

The return to Hogwarts was hard, mostly because Ron had to burst his own bubble that he'd created around himself at Grimmauld and admit that he had a mate. A mate he hated. A mate who hated him. It also terrified him because as the holidays dragged on he felt more nervous and agitated, as if he was craving something but he didn't know what. Or rather, he knew _who_ he craved, but he refused to admit it.

"You want 'im," Fleur informed him near the end of Christmas, but of course Ron already knew, "you should make your peace with 'im, _oui_?"

"It's not that easy, Fleur."

Now Ron was back on the familiar Hogwart's train, sitting in one of the compartments with Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Neville. They were playing a rude muggle game that Harry had brought with him, something called 'Cards against Humanity' but Ron was in too much of a bad mood to join in. He watched miserably as snow fell outside the window, twirling from the night sky, mixed with rain. Just looking at it made him cold.

"Cheer up, Ron," Neville said after he stopped giggling at one of the cards, "it can't be that bad."

"Oh trust me," Ron leaned his forehead against the cool glass, "It's _worse._ "

Ever since he got on the train everything seemed to be itching, aching for something. Or someone. Ron knew that Malfoy was somewhere close, only a few doors down, and something inside Ron seemed frustrated that he wasn't with him. _But why would I be? I don't want to see him, and he doesn't want to see me._

"I'm going to look for the candy trolley," Ron grumbled, picking his way through his friends' legs and slipping out of the compartment. Nobody tried to stop him. The train shook gently, unsteady beneath Ron's feet as it carried on its journey. The only people out on the little hallway were Hannah and Terry, snogging contently against one of the walls. They quickly slipped into one of the compartments when they saw Ron, flushed and smiling apologetically.

The redhead sighed as he walked on, alone. He wasn't hungry, he didn't really want to find the candy trolley. He didn't know what he wanted, but he just knew that he couldn't sit around Harry and Ginny any longer. They were just so _happy._ It made Ron miserable. Everyone around him seemed either ecstatic about their mates or excited about finding them, and he was just so _miserable,_ knowing that he had Malfoy for a mate.

The ginger hadn't really been looking where he was going, until he ran face first into Malfoy himself. Or more like he ran chest first into Malfoy's face because apparently that's how it worked. Needles to say, the blonde was knocked down to the ground from the impact, though Ron barely felt it.

"What the _hell_ Weasley?!" the blonde fumed angrily. Ron was taken aback by the fact that Malfoy's cheeks were red. Because he had never seen the blonde blush, though he was blushing right now, and it was kind of pretty and- "Didn't your filthy mother teach you how to walk?!" Malfoy spat, making Ron snap out of his dangerous thoughts.

"Don't talk about my mom!" Ron growled angrily, feeling anger build up in him, Malfoy's blush disappearing from his thoughts...for now.

"Move out of my way," Malfoy said, glaring up at Ron and picking himself up off the floor. Ron noticed that his robes were crumpled and that his hair was messier than usual. There were dark circled underneath his eyes and he was glaring heatedly but because he was a good head shorter than the Gryffindor it wasn't very intimidating. Ron pulled his wand out, more as a warning than a threat,

"Or what?" he mocked. For once he felt like he had the upper hand – Malfoy couldn't really do anything to him, not without his family's support behind him. The blonde had no more power over Ron, and the ginger took advantage of that, pointing his wand at him, eyes narrowed. He really didn't know what possessed him. The blonde eyed the object up nervously and flinched away. Ron frowned. That act alone was almost enough to make him lower his hand, seeing Malfoy so unnerved. He hadn't meant to scare him, just... _just what_

Before Ron could back down though, the blonde was pulling out his own wand and pointing it at Ron with his teeth clenched. The ginger raised an eyebrow,

"Really?" he asked, "What are you going to do? Kill me?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. Ron had never really paid attention to how silver they were, sparkling and-

"Put your wand down and piss off," Malfoy growled as his hand shook. Ron smirked when he saw. For some reason he liked being in control but something in his gut was telling him to back off. He ignored it.

"Abra Kadabra," he said dramatically and swished his wand. Malfoy stumbled back so suddenly that Ron flinched. The Slytherin dropped his wand, his eyes going wide. Ron froze. He had never seen Malfoy so _terrified,_ "Malfoy?" he asked.

"D-Don't point that t-thing at me," Malfoy's  voice was shaky and his eyes filled with tears suddenly. Ron felt a pang in his chest, "T-This isn't f-funny-" he tried to get away from Ron but there was just a wall behind him. Ron began lowering his wand-

"You twp!" the candy trolley lady was striding towards them furious and fuming, her round face red, "What are you doing?!" she demanded, "there will be no duels in _my_ hallways! With me, both of you!"

Malfoy gathered himself up, glared at Ron, and shoved past him. Ron was left feeling weirdly empty.

***

Detention in the forbidden forest, exactly what Draco fucking needed. He remembered when he was here last time, with Hagrid and his stupid dog and Potter and...everything was so much simpler back then. Sure, Voldemort was drinking unicorn blood but at least Draco's life hadn't been shattered to pieces. In the end he only had himself to blame for that though. If it wasn't for his decisions...

But this time it was _all_ Weasley's fault! If he hadn't pulled his wand out...Draco shuddered at the memory. All he could think about when Ron aimed his wand at him was the way Bellatrix tortured Hermione in his living room, her scream echoing through the house. The way Voldemort killed that professor above the table, her body thundering against the floor. What Weasley did was cruel but Draco couldn't blame him. He was a piece of shit, and he didn't deserve sympathy or care and he had been horrible enough in his short life to deserve that little joke.

And now here he was, trekking through the forbidden forest with none other than Weasley at his side, his shoes muddy and covered in snow.

"What are we looking for again?" the ginger asked as he pushed branches out of the way. Draco stifled a groan at how hopeless the other boy was,

"Checking the perimeters, Weasley," he growled, "to make sure the Acromantulas hadn't violated the border treaty...sometimes I do wonder if you mother dropped you on your head," he sighed.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Weasley said half-heartedly but it was clear that his head wasn't in it, he was looking around nervously. Draco dared a quick glance at him. In the darkness he looked almost like a different person, tall and strong and dark haired. Almost like not-Weasley. _He's kind of attractive,_ Draco mused and then immediately looked away and flushed, hands clenched. He scolded himself mentally and tried not to look at the Gryffindor for the rest of the evening.

The detention seemed to stretch on for hours as the two ventured further into the woods, through bushes and trees and snow, checking borders. Well, Weasley was checking borders, Draco just mostly leaned against trees and complained about how cold it was and how tired he was. It was halfway through one of his rants that it happened.

"...I mean these shoes are _not_ made for snow," the blonde felt the water from the ice sink in through his heels and he groaned in disgust as his socks and feet dampened, "Why does it always happen to me? Weasley if you weren't such a damned wanker then we wouldn't be in this position-"

"Would you _stop talking-"_

"No, pissing you off is my last happiness in this world-"

"Shut up, Malfoy-"

"Listen you prick-"

The dark shape came bounding out of the darkness and the next thing Draco knew was that he was being knocked into the snow.

***

Ron didn't see the Acromantula, but he should've. He should've been paying attention. It's just that...he was desperately trying not to look at Malfoy. Whenever he did, something weird twisted inside him and he flushed and...it was all just so new and confusing and Ron preferred to look away that to acknowledge his weird new reactions.

The giant spider came out of the trees without a warning, and it knocked Malfoy into the snow. Normally in situations like these Ron froze up and screamed because _spiders_ and he waited for Harry or Hermione to save the day, but neither were here and terror gripped Ron. But for once he wasn't scared for himself, he was scared for Malfoy. The blonde looked horribly small and fragile in the snow, underneath the monster and all of these protective emotions flooded Ron so suddenly that for a second he couldn't breathe.

And then he wasn't thinking, just drawing his wand and pointing it at the creature. He executed a perfect _Petirificus Totalus,_ there was a flash of light and the creature froze up, pincers inches away from Draco's face, before it rolled to the side and onto its back in the snow, legs sticking up. Ron shuddered in disgust and Malfoy scrambled away from where the monster was. Ron was gripped with the sudden need to make sure Malfoy was alright, to protect him.

"Malfoy?" he was on his knees next to the boy before he even registered that he moved. The blonde was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling violently. His cheeks were flushed red, hair wet with snow, eyes wide and terrified, "Malfoy?" Ron made as if to touch his shoulder but Malfoy flinched away. He was shaking but Ron didn't think it was from the cold.

"N-No...d-don't, I-I...," Malfoy gasped helplessly as if he couldn't breathe. Ron lowered his hand and just studied him as the blonde tried to regain his composure. He squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to turn off the world, a hand pressed to his chest as if his heart hurt. Ron didn't know what to do, how to react. A part of him wanted to laugh the whole things off and make fun of Malfoy because it was _Malfoy_ for Merlin's sake _,_ but another part wanted to gather the boy into his arms and make him stop trembling.

"Malfoy...," Ron said helplessly, torn between the two options. Malfoy shivered,

"I'm fine," he managed and got to his feet shakily, almost stumbling into a tree. Ron followed him up and dusted dirt and snow off of his knees, "I'm not doing this detention anymore," Malfoy grumbled weakly. His voice stopped shaking and Ron was glad that some of his snark had come back, "I'm cold. I'm going back."

"Alright," Ron shrugged, "I'll go tell Hagrid about the Acromantula-"

"No!" Malfoy said so suddenly that it startled Ron. His hand shot out as if to grab Ron, but it stopped midway. Standing in the snow with his cheeks flushed and snow in his hair, Malfoy almost looked like a different person. He shifted his eyes and stared at his feet and dropped his arm nervously, "Can...w-walk me to school," he demanded, his eyes glued to his shoes, "If I get attacked I'll come back to haunt you so you b-better make sure I don't die."

"Whatever," Ron rolled his eyes but he felt warmth spread through his chest, "just don't freak out again."

He really, really, really wanted to take Malfoy's hand.


	3. Of Trust and Staring

**Chapter 3: Of Trust and Staring**

Draco and Weasley stared at the bed as if it would open a magical mouth and answer the question that both of the boys were asking themselves mentally; what now? Somehow at the detention the two of them made some kind of weird 'truce.' Which meant that Weasley officially had permission from Draco to move off of the couch. It seemed like a nice solution and a better start for the two of them when they were walking up to the school in the snow, but now that Draco was staring at the big double bed, he was regretting his decision. The bed looked awfully small all of a sudden.

"Err...I'll sleep on the left?" Weasley offered, not looking at Draco and rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"No," the blonde snapped, wanting desperately to have the upper hand in this situation, " _I'll_ take the left."

"Why do you have to be so fucking annoying?" Weasley groaned, but he seemed resigned to his fate as he unzipped his bag and pulled out a pair of sleeping trousers. Draco watched him, unimpressed, arms crossed over his chest defensively. He wanted to somehow stabilise his dominance but Weasley didn't pay him any mind as he disappeared into their en-suite bathroom. The way he just brushed Draco off was really getting on the blonde's nerves.

Only when the doors closed, he let himself relax. Draco collapsed onto the soft bed, which had been only his up until that day, and stared miserably at the canopy overhead. It was red. Everything always had to be fucking red, the goddamned Gryffindor's, Weasley's hair...

Draco listened to the shower as he pondered over his situation. Or more like an aspect of the situation that for now was just a dark cloud on the horizon but soon enough would be hanging overhead and raining all over Draco's parade.

His heat.

Draco wasn't stupid, he took the classes, even though he barely paid attention to the non-Alpha related stuff. He still knew that whenever an Omega was identified and presented with their mate a month would pass and then they would go into heat. Which basically meant that they got incredibly horny and couldn't be satisfied by anyone but their mate. If they didn't sleep with them it would cause them discomfort. Pain. Draco winced at the thought of doing _it_ with Weasley.

Still, he was counting days left. So far it had been thirteen and Draco dreaded the moment when September 20th rolled around. It was approaching like a fast moving train. What would he do then? Lock himself in a room and suffer for days on end? Or would he let Weasley-

Draco shook his head violently, not wanting his thoughts to stray into _that_ territory. He didn't want to think about Weasley in his...their, bed, even if he was about to sleep in it. Sleeping was different, sleeping was neutral. Draco was ready for Weasley's snoring and tossing...he wasn't ready for his hands all over his body, touching and kissing and...

The shower shut off and Draco felt nervous all of a sudden. Weasley was a lot bigger and stronger than Draco, and if he wanted to do anything, Draco wouldn't be able to stop him... _No, don't be foolish,_ Draco scolded himself, _This is Weasley I'm thinking about! He's a stupid, brave bastard, he'd never force himself on me...He'd never want me that way._ For some stupid reason the thought send a pang through Draco's chest.

Weasley came out of the bathroom and Draco sat up on the bed immediately. The Gryffindor's hair was wet and he was furiously towelling it dry, as if trying to take his anger out on it. He was just in the sweatpants which hung low on his hips, revealing a tanned, muscled chest and stomach with a dusting of freckles across the collarbones and shoulders. Draco quickly averted his gaze, before he felt like playing connect the dots with Weasley's abs. He shoved his way past the boy and got into the bathroom before his body betrayed him.

***

Ron was rummaging through his bag, trying to figure out where he put the newest Weasley jumper his mother made him, when Malfoy stepped out of the bathroom. Ron was ashamed to admit that he stared for a good minute, frozen with his the jumper in his hands. But he had a good reason to stare! He'd only ever seen the Slytherin in collared shirts, with neatly pressed robes and perfectly slicked back hair.

And now here he was, in an oversized t-shirt, his damp blonde hair curling messily around his face. He had a towel around his shoulders and yawned as he shut the bathroom door, his face pinching adorably. _Woah, hold up!_ Ron almost dropped the jumper, _Malfoy is not adorable! Get your head out of the gutter, Ron!_ He turned away, pretty sure he was as red as his hair. Malfoy didn't say anything as he neatly folded the towel and placed it on the bedside table. Ron watched him out of the corner of his eye as he pulled back the blankets and climbed underneath, becoming just a lump on the bed.

Ron's heart was in his throat as his fingers tightened on his jumper, scrunching it up. He wondered if he should get in as well, or return to the couch, or wait until Malfoy fell asleep-

" _Nox._ " Malfoy made the decision for him, as always, and the lights in the room winked out. It was followed by a soft, " _Silencio_."

Ron sighed in exasperation as the room was flooded in darkness, and shoved his jumper back into his bag, trying to find it in himself to get angry. He couldn't, instead he found the bed by touch and then slipped underneath the cool covers, careful to be as far away from Malfoy as possible.

It was painfully awkward. Ron was practically on the edge of the bed in an effort to get away from the other boy, to make sure no part of them touched. He could hear Malfoy breathing, shallowly enough to indicate that he wasn't asleep yet. Ron remained perfectly frozen, afraid to move. Every once in while the blonde would toss or turn or sigh in annoyance, trying to get comfortable, but Ron didn't move as he stuck to the edge. Maybe sleeping on the couch wasn't that bad idea, it was better than being faced with Malfoy's wrath if he got too comfortable.

"Would you relax?" Malfoy grumbled, his voice muffled but a pillow. It startled Ron but he didn't flinch, "It feels like sleeping with a piece of wood."

Ron didn't apologize but he eased himself away from the edge slightly and turned around, deciding to throw Malfoy's comfort out of the window. That turned out to be a mistake as he came face-to-face with the blonde. Both the boys froze, their faces inches away from one another, noses almost blushing. Malfoy sucked in a startled breath and Ron's eyes unconsciously flickered to the his lips. He could feel his pulse speeding up, his head pounding, and he suddenly wanted to pull himself closer to the boy because he smelled insanely good, like expensive cologne and apples and tea and Ron wanted him desperately closer. His hand itched to reach out and touch Malfoy.

"Don't get any weird ideas."

The thought disappeared and Malfoy turned around, his back to Ron. The ginger exhaled and backed away, though not all the way to the edge like he had before. His heart pounded as he watched the sliver of skin at the back of Mafloy's neck, pale in the moonlight, his silvery hair against the dark pillow. Slowly, the Slytherin's breathing slowed down and deepened and only then Ron could fall asleep himself.

***

"Muggle trust exercises!" Hagrid called, standing in front of a small clump of students. He was the head of the Eighth year 'house' and he had a few weird ideas about getting mates to develop their relationships. A small group of those who had been paired with someone inside the school were standing around the half-giant in a half chain, listening and shifting awkwardly. Ron was as far from Malfoy as humanly possible, listening to the professor, "one of you, preferably the...err, lighter one, stands with his or her back to their mate...and...blimey, and falls backwards. The trick is to trust your partner to catch you."

 Everyone seemed pretty content to do the exercises as they seemed pretty easy, if slightly weird. Well, everyone except Ron and Malfoy of course.

"I am _not_ throwing myself backwards into that prick!" Malfoy declared loudly, to the amusement of others, "Trust fall?!" the boy snorted humourlessly, crossing his arms over his chest, "More like crack my skull on the floor."

"Hagrid, I can't do the fall with him!" Ron complained, glaring at the smaller boy while pleading with the professor at the same time, "His ego weighs a tonne."

Some of the students snickered and Hagrid looked uncomfortable,

"Blimey, Ron...as a friend I understand but...," he scratched his shaggy beard, "This is a lesson and well, err...you must do as you're told?" he sounded uncertain. Ron groaned and Malfoy shot him an annoyed look,

"Guess your best friend the half giant can't help you," he grumbled as he climbed up onto the little rise with the other selected mates. Ron stayed down on the floor, with Harry grinning next to him. The raven haired boy was eyeing Ginny's ass appreciatively and Ron glared at him weakly, trying not to follow his friend's example and let his eyes stray to Malfoy's backside. He really didn't need that image burned into the back of his head. Ron had half a mind to just drop the blonde, if it meant he stopped having all those confusing thoughts.

"Whenever you're, err, ready!" Hagrid called, "trust your partner!"

"Don't drop me Weasley, or I'll kill you in your sleep!" Malfoy warned and Ginny giggled at that. Then there were bodies falling into the arms of their loved ones and Ron found himself with an armful of Malfoy. He wondered if the boy even ate as he weighed barely nothing in his arms, like a feather. Still, his back was warm and solid against Ron's chest and for a second his heart skipped a beat because he was actually holding Malfoy, his arms wrapped around his skinny torso, and he could feel the boy's own heart pounding against his palm. And then the moment passed.

Most of the couples cheered and kissed or hugged but Malfoy and Ron just jumped apart, looking disgusted and dusted each other off from invisible dirt, trying desperately to hide their blushing faces.

"You're welcome," Ron grumbled after he finished straightening out his robes. Malfoy's silver eyes narrowed,

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"I didn't drop you," Ron shrugged carelessly, "you could sound more happy about that."

"Thank you, of wonderful Weasley," Malfoy mock bowed and Ron flushed. He hated being mocked, "for not dropping my treacherous person onto the ground and not letting me crack my head open."

"Blimey," Hagrid cleared his throat, "Ron, Mr Malfoy, enough of that...err, let's move on to the next exercise."

 ***

Draco was grinning as he tied the blindfold around Weasley's head. The Gryffindor shifted nervously, his hands raised as if he wanted to grasp Draco's hips, to make sure the blonde was truly there. It made Draco become aware of just how close they were. He could feel Weasley's warmth, inches away, but Draco's smugness overpowered his nervousness, stopping him from pulling away.

"Ready?!" Hagrid called.

"Malfoy," Weasley hissed, his hand shooting out to grip Draco's wrist. The sudden contact made Draco jump and his cheeks flush and he was glad Weasley couldn't see. Though no doubt he could feel Draco trembling, "you better not walk me into a wall," the ginger warned. Draco's grin widened at that as he remembered his purpose,

"I wouldn't dare," he lied, smiling. Weasley tightened his hand on Draco's wrist, almost painfully. His palm was rough and calloused, but warm and it made Draco want to press himself closer to the other boy. The thought was disturbing.

"Alright! Off you go!" Hagrid bellowed, voice echoing. The aim of the exercise was to lead your mate across the field outside Hagrid's hut without tripping them up or letting them fall. The mate was meant to trust you completely, which Weasley of course didn't. Draco could feel his hand clenching where it touched his wrist.

Still, they began their walk across the grass, feet unsteady on the slippery ground. There were plenty or rocks and hollows to fall into and Weasley was moving as slowly as possible, his free hand extended in front of him in case Draco wanted to walk him into a wall or a tree.

"Relax," Draco drawled lazily, watching everyone else giggle and stumble around, "Don't you trust me?"

"Hell no," Weasley shifted uncomfortably.

"Good," Draco grinned and that was precisely when Weasley stumbled over a rock, almost tripping and falling into the grass, "Oops," Draco said un-apologetically and Weasley pinched the inside of his wrist. He was probably glaring but Draco couldn't see his eyes through the blindfold.

"Stop that," Weasley growled when Draco hissed in pain at the pinch. And then Weasley did something unexpected. He reached his hand down Draco's wrist, feather light, and slipped his fingers through the blonde's, interlocking their hands together,  The action made Draco's breath catch, "Lead me properly," Weasley grumbled and Draco could see his blush from beneath the blindfold. The gesture made him weirdly, uncomfortably warm and half of him wanted to pull away, the other hand determined to hold on.

With his heart fluttering in his chest, Draco let Weasley hold his hand as they walked around the field. It wasn't really funny anymore and Draco couldn't bring himself to look at the ginger. After a few minutes of tense silence, Weasley started brushing his thumb over Draco's skin, almost like he was trying to soothe him. He was probably unaware he was doing it but Draco's heart couldn't take the feeling for some reason and he jerked away...pretty violently.

Weasley wobbled on the wet grass and then he was sent sprawling into Draco. The Slytherin wasn't prepared for the sudden assault and he was off balance. Weasley's weight knocked him to the ground. The blonde gasped when the breath was kicked out of him the second his back made impact with the ground. And then he couldn't remember how to get air in his lungs properly because Weasley was right on top of him, all heavy and muscular and _warm._ Draco's hands came up on their own accord to fist into the back of Weasley's shirt, trying to helplessly keep him there. But then the ginger was pulling away, tugging his blindfold off, his free hand in the grass on the side of Draco's head.

"Shit, Malfoy are you oka-" he stopped talking when he caught sight of Draco, and just blinked down at him. The blonde desperately tried to get his heart to stop pounding and his cheeks to stop flushing, but Weasley was just _staring_ at him and it made him shake and his stomach to clench _._ Not knowing how to react, Draco stared right back. He and Weasley had never been so close to each other for such a long period of time and they were just kind of studying each other's faces.

Draco had a hundred curses and insults at the end of his tongue but they all disappeared as he became distracted by just how _blue_ Weasley's eyes were, and then he was counting the freckles on his tanned cheeks and he got to fifteen before his eyes slid to the Gryffindor's lips and he wanted to reach up and kiss him and-

"Shit, Ron," Harry and Ginny were at their side and Weasley was scrambling away as if Draco was about to burn him. The blonde felt like he just got punched when he was assaulted by the cold air, Weasley's body warmth gone, "Are you alright?"

Draco stared at the steely sky and sat up.

"F-Fine," Weasley's eyes were wide as he stared at Draco. The blonde couldn't take it, he felt like crying or tackling Weasley into the grass and snogging his face off. Instead he got up and ran off.


	4. Of Boggarts and Safewords

**Chapter 4: Of Boggarts and Safewords**

Ron laid in bed and this time it was awkward for a completely different reason than boundaries. The air in the room was pleasantly cool but the blankets were warm around Ron, and yet he couldn't relax. Malfoy was just inches away, his back to Ron. The ginger would've happily slipped into sleep if it wasn't for the worry that made his gut clench. Malfoy wasn't speaking to him. It had been three days since the little incident out on the field and the blonde hadn't said a word to Ron since. It was unnerving because usually plenty of insults and snarky remarks poured from the Slytherin's mouth, all aimed at Ron. Not this time. This time it was just silence, and it was seriously beginning to annoy Ron. Maybe not annoy...more like worry. It worried him.

"What did I do this time?" he sighed eventually, when he couldn't take it anymore. Malfoy didn't reply and Ron's eye twitched because now he _was_ annoyed. He wasn't stupid enough to think Malfoy was actually asleep, or that he couldn't hear him, "I know you're awake. Stop giving me the silent treatment."

"Six days."

Malfoy's voice sounded unlike him. He sounded small and muffled and _scared._ Ron frowned and almost reached out to touch the lump under the covers that was the other boy, but he stopped himself. Malfoy didn't need his comfort.

"Six days until what?" he asked, as gently as he could. Malfoy shifted under the covers but Ron could still only see the top of his head peeking out from beneath the blanket.

"Until m-my heat," Malfoy's voice sounded uncertain. Ron flinched. _Of course he's scared,_ his mind supplied, _he hates me but he's just supposed to let me fuck him._ For some reason the idea didn't disgust Ron, actually, having sex with Malfoy seemed weirdly appealing. But he hated the idea that Malfoy was scared of _him._ Despite how much the Slytherin pissed him off, Ron would never hurt him.

"We won't have to do anything," he said, laying back down and staring at the ceiling, trying to keep his voice steady, "I won't force you into anything."

"I know," the snark and sarcasm was gone from Malfoy's voice, leaving him weirdly vulnerable, "but then it becomes u-unbearable. That's w-what everyone said," his voice was shaking.

"I...," Ron didn't know what to say. On one side he had the option to take an unwilling Malfoy to bed, and on the other he could just let him suffer for days alone. He didn't know which prospect sounded worse, "What if...," Ron cleared his throat and Malfoy shifted under the covers, indicating that he was listening, "What if we decide on some rules? Like...I don't know, like safe words you could use if you're uncomfortable and-"

"Weasley," Malfoy's voice was icy, "Are you actually _offering_ to sleep with me?"

Ron blushed and was glad Malfoy wasn't looking at him, "Unless you prefer the pain," he grumbled, though he wasn't really hungry, "I'm fine either way."

A silence settled over the boys, weird and awkward, but eventually Malfoy sighed, as if he had given up.

"Fine," he said, "the safe word can be Salazar."

"No," Ron made a face,  "That's a terrible idea, I really don't look forward to you saying another guy's name while we-" he cut off abruptly and flushed. Then he cleared his throat, "Err... try something more neutral."

"Like what?" Malfoy snorted and turned around so he could look at Ron, propping himself up on his elbow. His eyes were red rimmed as if he was crying, his hair tousled and falling into his eyes. He didn't look scared or angry anymore. He looked kind of amused, "Cupcakes?"

"Yeah," Ron shrugged, too busy studying Malfoy's face to pay attention, "Cupcakes."

Malfoy cracked a smile but it wasn't a mocking one. It was a relieved one, even friendly and it made Ron's heart stop for a second.

"Alright," his voice was soft as he stared at Ron, "Cupcakes...," then he frowned, "but weird kinky shit."

"What do you mean weird kinky shit?!" Ron huffed, outraged. Malfoy shrugged one shoulder and turned back around,

"I don't know what you commoners are into," he grumbled and the moment of peace and happiness that Ron felt came to an abrupt end.

***

"Why do we have to do this?" Malfoy complained as he and Ron were dragged through the chilly dungeons towards one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms. It was early evening, and the candles on the walls dripped wax onto the floor.

"Because, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said in a clipped, no-nonsense tone as she walked with purpose, her robes swirling around her, "you and seemed to have missed the opportunity to work with boggarts," she eyed him coolly over her shoulder, "and as Mr Weasley here is training to be an auror and got very high marks for this particular activity."

"What does that have to do with _me_?" Malfoy whined, like the spoiled brat that he was.

"It's a way for you to learn how to trust your mate," the professor said in a clipped tone, clearly tired of the argument, "and Mr Weasley can teach you how to fight a boggart."

Ron's head pounded with a headache and he wanted nothing more than for Malfoy to just _be quiet._ Instead he was forced to listen to the boys objections and complaints as they walked and it was doing his head in.

McGonagall took them into an empty classroom, giving Ron some respite from Malfoy's constant complaining. There were chairs and tables stacked to one side of the room, pushed onto the wall. The windows were dusty and grey, and rain _pit pattered_ against the glass. An old, oak wardrobe stood on the other end of the space, seemingly harmless. It had beautiful designed etched into the wood but the second the Ron came closer it shook violently. He saw Malfoy flinch out of the corner of his eye but he himself wasn't afraid. A boggart could only harm you if you let it.

"Well," McGonagall said, "I will leave you to it," and with a swish of her cape she was out of the room, closing the door behind her. Malfoy and Ron exchanged an uncomfortable look and then the wardrobe shook a bit more violently. A scratching noise came from the inside.

"Err...you know what a boggart is?" Ron tried to find a place to start this awkward activity. Malfoy give him a pitiful look,

"Of course, unlike you I actually listen in class," it was a weak taunt, and Malfoy said it half heartedly anyway, as if he didn't have the strength to argue. Ron decided to ignore him,

"Okay," he pulled out his wand. Since the battle of Hogwarts he had gotten a lot better at controlling his magic and it didn't backfire anymore. Usually. He showed Malfoy an uncomplicated move with the wand, "You...um, do that, and say _riddikulus,"_ he offered. He was never much of a teacher.

Malfoy pushed back his sleeve, gave Ron a confident look, and incredibly gracefully repeated the Gryffindor's clumsy move, voice ringing out clearly as he said the spell. Ron didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed or both.

"Right," was all he said as he turned to the wardrobe, "I'm gonna let it out now. Okay?"

"I can handle it, Weasley," Malfoy rolled his eyes, putting himself in the correct stance, opposite the wardrobe. As Ron neared it, it began shaking and moving, the sound of scratching and knocking and pounding coming from the inside louder than before. Ron's heart started beating a bit harder as his hand reached for the latch on the door. He gave Malfoy one last look, but the Slytherin looked ready, so Ron opened the doors.

The door swung open, slowly, creaking. The noise inside ceased and Ron stepped to the side, so the boggart didn't think to take on his fear. He frowned when he saw just darkness, and nothing inside. _Could Malfoy really be scared of nothing?!_ He thought suddenly, and the thought made his heartbeat speed up. But then a pale hand appeared from gloom, to grip at the edge of the wardrobe. It was followed by a leg, then another, an expensive cape, then long, pale hair, and a cold, judgemental face with cruel charcoal eyes.

Ron saw Malfoy's eyes widen in fear and then he stumbled backwards, the wand falling from his hand and hitting the floor as he faced his father. The boggart that was Lucius Malfoy advanced on his son, smiling cruelly, taunting.

"I-I...," Malfoy seemed to forget that his father _wasn't real._ He was shaking, his hands clenched into fists. Ron was frozen, "D-Don't, I-"

Boggart-Lucius raised his wand, and it seemed to finally unfreeze Ron. Instead of using his wand the boy followed his instinct and stupidly stepped forward, shouting,

"Hey!"

Malfoy slid to the ground, the boggart whirled on Ron, and then it was striding towards him. The boy pulled out his wand and suddenly Lucius Malfoy was gone and there was a body on the floor. He had a pale face and lifeless grey eyes and a halo of blonde hair. Ron felt an iron hand grip his heart but he forced himself to look up from the pull of red inching its way from the corpse. The real Malfoy, shaking and alive, was staring at his body on the floor. His face was grey.

 _It's not real. He's not dead_ , Ron told himself stubbornly. His hand trembled when he raised his wand, but it was Malfoy who said _Riddikulus_ in a shaky, unsteady voice. His body disappeared in a whirl of silver mist and in its place was a ball, rolling innocently across the ground. With a wave of his hand, Ron sent it flying back into the wardrobe and then he barred the door shut.

His heart pounded. There was sweat at the back of his neck, his hands were shaking. He pressed his forehead against the wood to try and calm himself. _It wasn't real, it wasn't real..._

"Weasley," Malfoy's voice sounded small and scared all over again. Ron felt sick and all he wanted was to turn around and pull Malfoy into his arms, make sure that he was real that he was safe and breathing and not _dead_ on the ground. But he didn't.

"Tell McGonagall you passed," he said instead.  

***

Ron was in the library  _trying_ to study, and it wasn't really working, when Luna came in. The library was quiet, just a few seventh year students playing Wizarding chess in the corner, and Luna's footsteps echoed off the floor loudly, making Ron look up. The boy frowned when he saw the worried expression on her face.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. She didn't say anything, respecting the 'no talking' rule that applied in the library. She offered Ron her hand in silence and the Gryffindor took in nervously, his heart pounding in his chest. He was scared and anxious but he didn't know  _why._ Luna pulled him out of the library and together they hurried down the corridor. It was close to midnight, and the corridors were deserted. It just fuelled Ron's anxiety more. Even the ghosts seemed to be gone.

"Luna!" he hissed as the girl continued walking in silence, his nerves getting the best of him, "Come on I'm getting worried here, just tell me what's wrong!" the girl didn't reply and it began to annoy him, "Luna! Luna!" he complained, and then suddenly it hit him. It hit him so hard that he forgot how to breathe for a second, "i-is...is it Malfoy?" the girl was silent, her back to Ron as she urged him along, " _Luna_!"

The Ravenclaw stopped and turned around. She looked unsure, "I...," she bit her lip, "Draco he's...he's in heat," Ron's stomach clenched and he felt like someone slapped him, "but he didn't want me to tell you. He just wanted to wait it out...," she sighed and looked up at the ceiling, "I think it's better if you're with him."

"Y-Yeah...," Ron stuttered, not sure what else to say. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Malfoy's heat would eventually roll around and the two of them would be forced to do something about it, but Ron hadn't expected it to come so...soon? Unexpectedly? In truth he hadn't expected it to come at all. In the end he and Malfoy didn't do anything, they didn't even fully accept that they were each other's mates. Apparently it made no difference.

The common room was empty when Luna and Ron slipped inside, the armchairs empty, the fire in the hearth burning low. A lot of people were going through heats now, and they were holed up in their rooms with their mates, probably going at it like rabbits. It made Ron feel horrible that Malfoy preferred to go through it alone and in pain, then have Ron next to him.  _He hates me, what did I expect?_

Luna left him to go to her room and Ron stood in front of their door for a moment, trying to figure out some kind of plan. It wasn't really working, his minds were just going round in circles, so instead he just reached out and pushed at the door handle. It was no use, the doors were locked. Ron expected that and he pulled out his wand, heart pounding, he murmured   _alohomora_ under his breath and the doors swung open, revealing darkness. Ron slipped in quickly, shutting and locking the door. It seemed as if the room was empty, silent, calm, dark. 

"Malfoy?" Ron asked softly, hesitantly.

"G-Go away," the reply was shaky and breathless and startled Ron. He turned his head to where it came from and saw Malfoy's silhouette curled up against the wall. He wanted to immediately go to him and make sure he was alright, but he didn't really know how the Slytherin would react, so instead he walked over to the candles and lit them with a simple spell muttered under his breath.

A soft glow filled the room from the candles, allowing Ron to see Malfoy properly. The boy had his knees drawn to his chest, his head in his hands. He was shaking, his hair damp with sweat.

"I-I said g-go away," he stuttered, voice muffled by his hands. A shiver wrecked his frame and Ron flinched forward, as if some invisible impulse was pulling him towards his mate. Slowly, as if Malfoy was a scared animal, Ron lowered himself to the ground near him.

"Malfoy-"

"D-Don't," Malfoy gasped, as if something hurt, "y-your voice, j-just don't..."

Ron felt helpless. If Malfoy wanted him to go away then surely he should but...the Slytherin looked like he was in pain and some part of Ron hated that and desperately wanted to make it better. He shifted closer and Malfoy flinched though he didn't look up. Slowly, hand shaking, Ron reached out and touched the blonde's shoulder. Malfoy sat up abruptly, eyes wide, and Ron just  _stared._

Malfoy's face was flushed, hair sticking to his damp forehead. His pupils were so wide that there was only a thin ring of silver left around them. The boy's lips were swollen, shirt slipping off one shoulder. Ron felt a shot of heat race through him and for a second he couldn't control himself as he grabbed Malfoy's wrists and pulled him towards him. The boy struggled weakly but then seemed to give up when Ron wrapped his arms around him. He was shaking but Ron just pressed his forehead against his shoulder, trying to somehow contain himself. His brain seemed to have shut down.

"N-No," the blonde gasped, although suddenly he was pressing himself closer to Ron. The Gryffindor's eyes widened when Malfoy's hands came up to grip the back of his shirt. The boy slid forward so that he was sitting in Ron's lap, his legs wrapped around the Gryffindor's waist.

"M-Malfoy," Ron's voice sounded hoarse. Malfoy clung onto him, gasping as if he couldn't breathe. Something hard pressed against Ron's stomach and the Gryffindor made as if to push Malfoy away but instead his treacherous body just pulled him closer. 

"Please, p-please,  _please_...," Malfoy was barely coherent as he buried his face in Ron's neck. And Ron just  _couldn't._ He pulled Malfoy away just enough so that he could look at him, panting and full of want, and then he crashed their lips together. It was hard and hot and desperate and Malfoy moaned at the initial contact, his lips parting to let Ron's tongue in. All of Ron's thoughts and arguments flew out of the window as he tugged Malfoy closer. He tasted like peppermint and wine and Ron swore that somehow he got drunk on him. His hands clumsily undid the buttons on the boy's shirt as he bit and licked at Malfoy's already swollen lips.

Ron broke away, his mouth attaching itself to Malfoy's pale neck instead. The Slytherin whimpered and pressed himself into Ron, hands tangling in the Gryffindor's hair as the Alpha sucked a blood red hickey just underneath his jaw, where everyone could see. Somehow it felt good to mark him like that, and Ron's mouth travelled further down Malfoy's neck. He bit at the skin and then soothed it with his tongue, he licked at Malfoy's collarbones and took his nipples into his mouth all the while Malfoy clung onto him and made these tiny breathless sounds.

"F-Fuck, Weasley w-wait...," he gasped, trying to simultaneously push the boy away and pull him closer. Ron didn't even realize when he got hard in his trousers but then there was heat pulsating through his whole body and his mind was clouded and he could barely think about anything else but the boy in his arms. Malfoy felt tiny and fragile and Ron was scared that he'd hurt or break him. His doubts were silenced the moment when he pulled away from Malfoy's chest only to have the blonde press their mouths together feverishly. The boy was trembling, his skin was hot as if he had a fever but Ron knew it was just his heat running through him.

He pushed Malfoy down onto the carpet and climbed on top of him, his body entirely covering the blonde's. They kissed with a desperation, as if they were running out of time. And of course they were, because normal Weasley and Malfoy would never do these kinds of things, and their wits would return soon. But for now...

Ron's tongue explored Malfoy's mouth as his hands reached down to undo the buttons on the boy's trousers. The blonde's shirt was open, but still around his shoulders, and Ron didn't bother to take it off as his hands were busy pulling off the offending trousers.

He pushed himself off for a second just so he could take Malfoy in. And he was a sight, eyes half-closed, mouth parted so he could desperately suck in air. There were bites and hickeys going all the way down his neck and chest, and his pale skin shone with a thin layer of sweat. His hair was a pale halo around his head, strands falling into his eyes. The only thing covering him from Ron's hungry gaze was a pair of black boxers, but they seemed like nothing compared to miles of Malfoy's pale skin. 

"W-What?" Malfoy mumbled. Ron shook his head and leaned down so he could press kisses along his jaw. 

*** 

Draco lost all control the second Ron pulled him into his arms, and that seemed like hours ago. Wherever the Gryffindor touched, the painful heat consuming Draco was replaced by a blazing inferno that filled his body with so much pleasure that he thought he was going to die. Every sense was heightened, every touched felt stronger and more intense. Draco could barely follow what the hell was going on because one second Weasley was on top of him was looking at him with unbearably soft eyes, and the next he was tugging off his underwear.

Anxiety seized Draco as cool air hit his hard, aching cock. Suddenly he wanted to cover himself up because he realized that he was practically naked, save the shirt hanging off one shoulder, and Weasley was still fully clothed. He had protests at the end of his tongue, but then his brain shut down. 

With no warning, Weasley took his cock in his mouth. Draco let out a startled breath as he felt the sudden heat around his member. A desperate noise was pulled from his throat, something between a sob and a whimper, when Weasley started bobbing his head up and down, taking in more of Draco's cock into the velvety softness of his mouth. The blonde's hands tangled in Weasley's fiery hair on their own accord and his hips bucked up into the wonderful heat. He felt like he had no control over his body, and only Weasley's big, rough hands on his hips stopped him from moving. 

Draco squirmed, gasping and moaning and trying to concentrate on something other than the heavenly feeling of Weasley's mouth on him. It proved impossible because the second the other boy's tongue slid over Draco's slit the boy was reduced to a blabbering mess.

" _Fuck_ , f-fuck, W-Weasley...," he felt like he couldn't breathe but somehow that made everything even better. His fingers tightened in the Gryffindor's hair, "M-Merlin...Oh God, wait, s-stop..." He felt something tighten inside his stomach and his heart pounded wildly in his chest. The pleasure was making his thoughts hazy, and he couldn't control his movements or his words or the shivers that shook his body. He pressed his cheek into the carpet and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control himself. Just as he was reaching that wonderful place that would end this beautiful torture, Weasley pulled away. Draco's eyes snapped open, "N-No...," he reached for Weasley, "p-please I-I-" Weasley just kissed him again. That was a cruel thing to do because Draco found that he couldn't resist that mouth, especially when it was kissing him senseless. He was absolutely hopeless against Weasley's assault, and he just ended up tugging the boy closer.

The stupid Gryffindor picked Draco up as if he weighed nothing and the next thing the blonde knew was that he was laying on top of cool, silk covers and Weasley was  _staring_ again. 

"Stop l-looking at me," it was meant to come out as a demand, but instead it was just helplessly breathless. Weasley's brow furrowed and Draco couldn't help but notice how dark his eyes were when he looked at him. It was a predatory look and it sent a shiver through the boy. 

"Do you remember the safe word?" Weasley asked. He sounded so caring that Draco's heart clenched for a second but then heat jolted through him again and the thought was gone.

"Y-Yes, I remember," he muttered, "get on with it."

Weasley looked like he wanted to argue but instead he just crashed his mouth to Draco's. He let their tongue battle for dominance, messy and hard. Draco knew what the next part was and maybe if it wasn't for his heat he would've been scared, but he wasn't because for some stupid goddamned reason he trusted Weasley. 

So when he wrapped his legs around the Gryffindor's waist and felt Weasley's knuckles brush against his slick entrance, he didn't flinch. The Gryffindor kissed him harder, a bruising kiss, and his hand squeezed Draco's ass. The blonde gasped into his mouth, losing the dominance battle and letting Weasley claim his mouth once more. His hands fisted in the boy's shirt and he tugged and Weasley helped him pull it over his head. 

Draco saw tanned muscle and freckles and he reached out to touch but then Weasley was kissing him again. Draco couldn't think straight, the only thing he knew was clear was that he wanted Weasley so, so  _badly_ that he couldn't take it. The Gryffindor pulled away to place hot, wet kisses down Draco's neck and then he was pushing his finger inside the blonde. 

"O-Oh...," Draco managed shakily. It didn't hurt, it didn't even feel weird. It felt surprisingly good actually, and thanks to the slick practically pouring out of the Slytherin the entrance was easy. Soon enough Weasley was thrusting his finger in and out of Draco and the blonde was a moaning mess on the pillows. The heat intensified, making Draco's entire body burn with want. Ron slipped another finger inside him, and Draco gasped. A third soon joined the second and Weasley pumped them in and out of Draco. The blonde's back arched off the bed and hr whimpered and moaned, his toes curling when the redhead twisted his fingers inside him. He hadn't told Weasley he was a virgin, and he didn't know if the other boy ever did anything with anyone before but he sure seemed like he had experience because after bare minutes Draco was ready to come just from the fingers inside of him. 

Of course Weasley had to ruin it though, and pull them out. 

"Malfoy, are you sure this is okay?" Weasley sounded breathless.

"Listen y-you prick," Draco growled, his body wonderfully warm and throbbing. His cock leaked precum on his stomach, "Fuck me o-or I'll find s-someone else to d-do it f-for you." The threat came out wobbly because Draco's voice was unsteady but it still made Weasley's eyes darken. With one swift movement he flipped Draco onto his stomach and then he was pushing his legs apart. Draco let out a shaky breath when he heard the Gryffindor unbuckling his belt and his body trembled with anticipation. 

Weasley pressed the tip of his cock into Draco and the blonde shoved his face in the pillow. Weasley was surely meant to go slow and gentle, but his body seemed to take over and he entered Draco in one, sharp thrust that caused the Slytherin to cry out and bite the pillow. The Gryffindor pressed his forehead to the back of Draco's neck, 

"I-I can't control m-myself...," he growled, breath warm against Draco's neck. In reply, the blonde just pressed his arse up against the redhead, mind cloudy. Weasley took that as an invitation because he pulled his cock out and then slammed it back in. Draco moaned and his hands fisted into the blankets. He didn't feel any pain, just pleasure that shook his entire body as Weasley fucked him slowly but thoroughly, his thrusts powerful and rough. 

"M-More," he moaned, "Weasley,  _p-please_ -"

*** 

Malfoy was tight and wet and so unbelievably hot. He was unlike all those girls Ron had fucked before because God, he was so much better. His hole clenched around Ron's cock with every thrust and his frame trembled. And then he fucking  _pleaded_ and Ron just couldn't. 

He gripped Malfoy's hips in a bruising grip and then he sped up his thrusts. He watched, mesmerized, as Malfoy's body swallowed his cock greedily, a litany of moans spilling from the boy's mouth. He was so tight, so perfect, that Ron couldn't concentrate on anything else but the feel of his body. 

Suddenly Ron felt the need to see the boy's face. He pulled out abruptly and Malfoy whirled around to look at him. 

"W-Why did you stop?" he sounded so wrecked that Ron didn't even have the strength to answer. Instead he just hauled the smaller boy into his lap. Malfoy's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Ron's lips and tongue stopped him. He kissed the boy as he aligned his cock with his hole. Then he was pushing in again and those wonderful moans were being swallowed by Ron. 

The Gryffindor felt like he was going insane, all he wanted for the rest of his life was to keep Malfoy in his arms and kiss him and fuck and touch him until the Slytherin couldn't breathe. So he did. He fucked up into the blonde with rough, precise thrusts that made the boy sob in pleasure. Malfoy dropped his head so he could press his face into the Ron's shoulder, his arms wrapping themselves around the Gryffindor's neck. He seemed absolutely boneless. Ron groaned and gasped and kissed all the skin he could reach; Malfoy's shoulders and neck, he tangled their fingers together and caused Malfoy to cry out as he found his prostate. 

"I-I can't," the boy sobbed against Ron as his body shook with pleasure, "F-Fuck, Weasley... _ah,_ I'm gonna...nghh," his free hand threaded itself in Ron's hair, "Faster, h-harder, please, please... _Ron."_ His name on Malfoy's tongue made Ron speed up his thrusts even more, lost in pleasure, and Malfoy just clutched him closer and sobbed, "Ron, Ron, f-fuck..."

And then he came and his hole clenched around Ron, sending him into white ecstasy. 

 


	5. Of Death and Quidditch

**Of Death and Rain**

Draco didn't know what he expected. Maybe he expected a change, maybe he thought that he and Weasley would progress into something...more? But no, instead things just became unbearably awkward all over again. Draco didn't really remember what happened directly after Weasley fucked him, because he blacked out.

When he woke up he was in a clean t-shirt that he was pretty sure belonged to his mate,  however the owner of the shirt was nowhere to be seen and when Draco ventured into the common room, he saw him asleep on the couch. That hurt, for some stupid reason, so Draco went back to bed and tried to forget about everything that happened the previous night, including Weasley's hands on him.

When he woke up again, it was the afternoon and there were a few people in the common room, minus Weasley. Draco holed himself up in his room, scared of seeing the other boy, plagued with anxiety as the previous night's events flooded back. He couldn't stand to look at himself in the mirror, and had a few hour episode when he never ever wanted to see Weasley again.

Not that _it_ wasn't good...because it was. Like really good.  But when Draco's mind was clear again, he realized what a mess he had been, and that was unbearable. He was disgusted at how much of an _Omega_ he was.

When he eventually forced himself to leave the room, it got even worse. Weasley couldn't seem to stand being in the same room as him, and the two boys openly avoided each other everywhere; in the hall, the library, even lessons. They didn't talk, no insults, no taunts, no arguments. Just silence. Weasley slept on the couch, and Draco _tried_ to sleep in the be all by himself.

It was hard, for some reason he couldn't stand sleeping alone. He desperately wanted Weasley to get over it and come back to their room so Draco could press himself into his warmth and...

It was pathetic.

The awkwardness lasted for a whole month, and Draco counted that the two of them exchanged six words over the days. _Sorry. Move. Malfoy? Hello. Sorry. Weasley._ They didn't touch, didn't sit in each other's presence. It was fucking unbearable.

When Draco got his first heat, it started off gradually. His skin prickled and then he felt warm, his breathing sped up. Before Weasley came, he had already been in a state for about an hour. His second heat came unexpectedly, and it hit him so suddenly that he could do little more than curl up on the bed and try and make it go away. He didn't even have the strength to get up and lock the door because it just _hurt_ so damn much.

Draco didn't know what he expected, but he didn't expect for Weasley to come into the room, lock the door, and kiss him as if they were in love. He didn't expect Weasley to touch him as if he was something precious, and had to be cherished and taken care of.

After that it wasn't quite so awkward.

Three months passed, Draco and Weasley somehow got back into the way of things. They re-started with the insults and arguments, but it was clear that they had grown fond of each other. What annoyed Draco was that Weasley _still_ wouldn't touch him outside of his heats, but he couldn't recall exactly _when_ it started to bother him.

***

Draco was sitting on the bed, trying to teach stupid Weasley the list of ingredients for a potion they needed to know for their exams, when the owl scratched at the window. It was a cool spring day, and sunlight filtered in when Weasley came up to the window to open it. The bird flew inside, circled near the ceiling and then disposed of a letter on Draco's pillow, before flying back out. The blonde looked at the letter, turned it over in his hands, surprised, and then glanced at Weasley.

"You didn't say you were expecting a letter," the Gryffindor said. Draco raised an eyebrow,

"Since when is that any of your business?" he asked casually, carefully prying the envelope open with his fingers. A pale letter fluttered out onto the boy's lap, folded neatly in half. The boy had no idea what it was, but it had the Ministry of Magic seal. The boy broke it easily and the flipped it open. Weasley went back to the potion homework, clearly bored of the whole ordeal.

Draco read the first few lines. He didn't even get a warning. His stomach twisted. The Slytherin sucked in a breath but he didn't know where it went because it certainly didn't get to his lungs. It was as if someone punched him...no, as if someone was repeatedly punching him, over and over until he could do nothing more than read those words again and again and-

_You have our sincere condolences._

_You have our sincere condolences..._

_You have our-_

"Malfoy?" Weasley's voice was as if through a curtain, muffled. Draco could hear his heartbeat in his head, pounding away and drowning everything else out, "Malfoy?" His vision went blurry and it took him a second to realize that he was crying, tears prickling his eyes, "Malfoy!" tears splattered down onto the paper, making the ink runny, and Draco couldn't move. The letter fluttered from his hands and onto the ground. Draco's gasped as he tried to get his heart to _stop hurting._

"Draco?" Weasley's voice was soft. Draco blinked back his tears and looked up at him and he tried to hold it back but it didn't really work.

"I...I-I...m-my mother...she's...s-she's...," he could say the word. He couldn't say _dead._ He tried to remember what was the last thing he told her. What was the last thing she told him. He didn't know whether it had been _I love you Draco, have fun at school_ or _You're worthless. Pathetic. I can't believe you're my son._

Draco just needed someone to comfort him, to hold him. He needed _Ron_ to hold him, but he didn't know how to ask. He didn't even know how to speak. Thankfully he didn't have to because Ron understood and he pulled Draco into his arms. He was so warm and gentle that Draco just broke down crying, clinging onto the other boy and sobbing so hard his whole body shook. Ron just held him and didn't say anything and Draco's heart ached.

He wanted to scream and punch something and deny everything, he wanted to fall asleep and forget and rip the letter to pieces but all he could do was continue crying like a child. His head throbbed and his eyes burned, and his heart felt like it was being ripped apart, but he just couldn't stop the tears, even though they weren't making anything better. Draco thought that because of how his mother was after his father's arrest, he wouldn't mourn her. She had been but a ghost the last year, and yet when he had read the words, and found out that she was dead, he didn't remember the cold, hard woman in the empty Manor, he remembered his mother from the years before. He remembered her when she made him tea when he was ill and how excited she was when he was sorted into Slytherin. He remembered her trying to play Quidditch with him once, and squealing when the hem of her dress was dragged through the mud. He remembered her building a snowman and baking and decorating the Christmas tree. And he just cried because his mom was _dead._

Ron must've laid them down at some point, because Draco found himself pressed into the boy's chest, with a blanket thrown over his shaking shoulders. His sobs subsided, replaced by shallow breaths and Ron held him close as he calmed down. Draco thought that perhaps the worse had passed. The sun was setting and he was so exhausted and he just wanted to sleep but then he remembered his mother's face and he dissolved into sobs again. He couldn't control it. Ron didn't care though, he didn't complain or pull away. He pressed soft kisses to Draco's forehead and rubbed his back and told him that it was okay to cry and that made a tiny bit of the pain in Draco's heart disappear.

***

Two weeks later Ron couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling and the shadows on it. The window was cracked open because it was surprisingly warm in March, and the boys liked to let a bit of a breeze in. After what seemed like hours, Ron couldn't take it. Every bone in his body seemed uneasy, and he couldn't bear to stay motionless. As quietly as he could, he slipped from the bed and made his way to the closet.

He was halfway through lacing up his shoes when Draco woke up.

"What are you doing?" the boy mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He looked adorable; hair mussed, eyes half-closed from sleep. He seemed to have adopted one of Ron's shirts and now slept in it. It made Ron want to crawl back into bed.

"I'm going outside," he informed Draco instead, standing up and grabbing his broom from the corner, "going to fly for a bit. Go to sleep, dumbass."

He slipped out. The common room was empty and dark, only glowing embers left in the fireplace. Cards and books and parchment was placed messily on the tables, where the students had left them. Ron's footsteps sounded horrible loud as he stepped out of the door and crept down the corridors. The paintings snored in their frames, leaning on each other. Ron had wanted to ask Harry for his invisibility cloak, but he didn't risk going to their room, scared that he and Ginny were up to...err, _things._

Somehow, Ron made it all the way to the front door without getting caught by Filch or any of the prefects. He walked across the school grounds, towards the Quidditch Pitch, his boots sinking into the soft mud. The air felt nice and cool against his face, and the air smelled like grass and rain. The sky was dark, but Ron knew that dawn was near, despite the thousands of stars winking at him. He made it to the pitch in a matter of minutes, and threw his leg over his broom the second he was there.

It was a lot colder up in the air, but Ron loved it. The wind blew his hair from his face as his feet dangled in thin air. He spiralled and flew upwards and he couldn't keep the grin off his face as he went higher and higher, almost like he could touch the stars. His stomach fluttered and his heart beat fast as he flew in the dark.

Far below, the gothic bulk of Hogwarts jutted out of the ground. A few braziers and windows were alight, but apart from that the castle was shrouded in darkness and sleep. Even Hagrid's cottage was dark. From where Ron was, it looked so tiny, like a toy. Beyond it were mountains practically packed onto each other, and further on miles and miles of fields.

When Ron looked directly down though, he saw a lone figure on the quidditch field. Ron frowned and his heartbeat picked up. He prayed it wasn't one of the teachers as he guided his broom down. For a second the wind whistled in his ears as he sped up and then his shoes brushed the grass.

It wasn't a teacher, it was Draco. He was still in his pyjamas, though he had thrown a cloak over them.

"I couldn't sleep," he grumbled when Ron gave him a quizzical look. There was a broom in one of his hands, and a cage with a tiny golden snitch in the other, "I...um, thought we could play?"

"That's unfair," Ron crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm not even a _seeker_."

"And I'm not on the team," Draco raised his eyebrow, "You playing or not? Don't tell me you're _scared_ Weasley."

"Of you?" Ron grinned, hands tightening on his broom, "Never."

He pushed himself off of the ground and hung a few feet in the air, above the Slytherin. Draco opened the cage and the snitch glinted as it sped off in the darkness, winking out of sight. The blonde got onto his broom and then he was up in the air, overtaking Ron easily.

"Come on then!" he yelled, voice snatched by the wind, "This is a game not a tea party!"

Ron scoffed but he chased after him. The two spun through the cool air, trying to spot the snitch in the darkness. Once the tiny thing came out of nowhere and brushed against Ron's cheek and the boy nearly fell of his broom trying to get it, which sent Draco into a spiral of cackling laughter. The game continued for maybe an hour, both the boys chasing each other and the snitch around, trying to grab it as they argued and teased each other. In the end they got too tired and landed down in the grass, the snitch lost in the night.

"McGonagall is going to _kill_ us," Ron groaned as he dusted mud off of his cloak.

"Correction," Draco grinned as he got off his broom, "McGonagall is going to kill _you."_

"You're such a prick," Ron grumbled. The sky was lightening on the horizon to a soft grey, the stars fading out, and then the clouds opened and with a soft hiss, the two boys were engulfed in rain.

Malfoy screeched and ran underneath the little roof on the bleachers as fast as his legs would take him. Ron stayed in the rain, smiling as the sheet of grey covered everything. He let the water soak him and watched it turn the grass to mud. His shoes squelched when he turned to look at Malfoy, sulking underneath the roof and shivering.

"Oh come on!" Ron teased, "don't tell me you're bothered by a bit of rain."

"I hate being wet," Draco yelled back, as if it was obvious.

"That's what she said!"

"You're such a _child_ ," Draco complained, but tentatively he stepped out from underneath his cover. He flinched when the rain hit him, and crossed his arms over his chest as he came over to Ron, glaring,

"There. Happy?" he grumbled. The rain plastered his hair to his face, and droplets ran down his pale cheeks. Ron wanted to kiss him. His heart pounded as his eyes slid to the boy's lips. _Just do it, idiot,_ he told himself but his body was frozen.

Draco stepped away and kicked the closest puddle, spraying Ron with muddy water and breaking his thoughts. A battle began and ended at dawn, with both the boys covered in mud from head to toe.


	6. Of Bruises and Easter

**Of Bruises and Easter**

"I don't understand why you guys are so _stupid_ ," Hermione complained as Ron and Harry looked at her apologetically. The girl sighed as she continued to check over their essays, shaking her head in frustration, "Really...It's _kelp_ not _help_ ," she groaned and ran her magical pen over the parchment, erasing the offending words and replacing them with the correct ones. She was Ron's last chance at passing his N.E.W.T.S as he was too busy with his mate to properly study.

Ron shifted, feeling as if he was facing McGonagall in all her wrath. Hermione sighed dramatically and put down the essay. Ron had to admit it looked a hundred times better now, "Harry I have bigger hopes for you," Hermione informed the raven-haired boy, who gulped nervously.

The door to the dorm creaked open and some people looked up, though most were too busy with studying to bother. The weird thing was that there was nobody in the door, just emptiness which showed the wallpaper out in the corridor. Ron's first thought was that the ghosts were playing tricks, but then the door creaked  closed and the door to his and Draco's bedroom opened, before shutting softly, quickly. Ron frowned,

"Harry have you borrowed your cloak to anyone lately?" he asked, though others already lost interest. Harry shrugged, watching Hermione check his work nervously, playing with his hands.

"Malfoy why?"

"It's nothing," Ron stood up and picked up his essay, "Thanks 'Mione," he ruffled her hair and then walked across the dorm room, picking his way through students lounging on the floor. When he slipped inside his room he found it empty. But the door to the bathroom was closed, the water in the sink running. Ron dumped his essay and walked over anxiously, knocking,

"Draco?"

"What?" the voice snapped back, muffled, and sounding weirdly angry. Ron frowned,

"Did something happen?"

"No," Draco's voice sounded bitter and it made Ron's heart clench, "Of course not. Why would anything happen?"

Although the two have warmed up to one another and fucked once a month, they weren't exactly _friends._ They bickered more than talked, and didn't trust one another. They only came onto the first name basis after they both decided that they were over the whole surname thing. Still, Ron had all these weird...feelings, about the other boy. He worried about him and felt weirdly protective over him and sometimes he felt strangely jealous or proud or... _Stop it Ron, it's not like anything will ever happen. It's just sex._

"Draco open the door," Ron asked. He could have used a simple alohomora spell, but he respected the Slytherin's privacy...for a time.  

"No."

"Draco...," Ron was getting annoyed, tapping his foot on the floor. And he was worried too. Really, really worried.

"I said _no,_ " Draco snapped.

"Draco open the door or _I'll_ open it," Ron threatened. There was silence on the other end and Ron thought that maybe Draco decided to ignore him, but then there was a soft click and Ron could push the door open and come inside.

Their bathroom was quite nice, which Ron had already decided weeks ago. There were no windows but plenty of candles to brighten up the room. A tub was situated _in_ the floor, almost like a pool, so you could just step inside easily. Ron had a hazy memory of fucking Draco inside it during one of the heats, water sloshing over the side. It made him blush whenever he thought about it, but his attention was quickly taken up by something else.

Draco was standing by the sink, shirtless and deliberately looking away from Ron as he scrubbed the blood off of his hands. Ron's heart almost tumbled out of his chest when he saw the state the boy was in; there was a bruise on his cheekbone, purple and black, and another dozen on his arms and stomach and even neck. His eye was black, his lips red with crusted blood. There was a scratch on his shoulder, and his wrist looked swollen and bent at an awkward angle.

"Draco...," Ron's voice broke.

"It's fine," Draco said stubbornly, though he was shaking. He refused to meet Ron's eye.

"You need to see Madame Pomfrey-"

" _It's fine._ "

"No it's not," Ron rushed over to him and gently eased him away from the sink and onto a little stool in the corner. Draco didn't put up a fight, his eyes staring at the ground, jaw clenched, though Ron didn't know whether it was in anger or pain. The blonde didn't say anything as Ron scrubbed at his hands, washing away the blood. His palms were surprisingly soft. The Gryffindor gently dabbed at Draco's lip with a towel, or as gently as he could, but it still caused the boy to wince. Ron bandaged his wrist as carefully as he could, trying not to touch the swollen place. There was nothing he could do about the bruises, and they looked bad. Most of them were purple-blue or black, but soon they'd be green and yellow and someone was bound to notice, "You should see Madame Pomfrey," Ron repeated.

"No," Draco's voice was soft and shaky. Ron was kneeling on the floor in front of him, and he looked up at the boy. There were tears in his eyes when the blonde finally looked at Ron,

"You need to tell me who did this," Ron murmured. Draco shook his head,

"It doesn't matter," he said, voice shaking, "b-besides, it's none of y-your business."

"I'm your _mate_ ," Ron said, exasperated. Draco shook his head,

"You're only my mate when you want to be," he said bitterly, standing up and shoving Ron out of the way. The Gryffindor also got up,

"What do you mean?" he frowned. Draco shrugged his shirt back on , not looking at Ron. It hurt, that after all this, Draco still wasn't comfortable talking to him.

"Nothing," the blonde spat and angrily turned back to the sink to try and wash away the blood that stained the porcelain. He didn't bother to button up his shirt. Ron felt annoyance root itself inside of him alongside the worry,

"Would you just _talk to me_?!" he demanded helplessly. Draco whirled around. He was _furious._

"No," he growled, "I will not talk to you, your fucking majesty," he shoved Ron but it didn't make him budge, "Get out."

"Stop it." Ron knew that Draco was just taking the situation out on him, that it wasn't Ron he was _really_ mad with.

"Fuck off," the Slytherin spat and raised his hand to push Ron again, but the Gryffindor caught it in his, "Weasley," Draco growled as a warning. Ron raised an eyebrow though his heart pounded furiously in his chest,

"Back to that again?" he felt anger flare inside him and shoved Draco's hand away harder than he intended. The boy stumbled into the sink. He had tears in his eyes but he still looked murderous. Ron didn't know whether to punch him, or hug him.

"Look at wonderful Weasley," Draco hissed, making the decision for him, "perfect little Gryffindor always helping the helpless. Well I don't _want_ your help. I don't _need_ your help," his eyes were afire with hate, "I have dealt with this for months before you came around and I can take care of myself," a look of disgust appeared on Draco's face, and his sneer came back. It made Ron's heart clenched because he hadn't seen that expression in a long, long time, "Maybe you fell in love with me," Draco snorted humourlessly, "is that it? You're _in love with me?_ Don't trouble yourself Weasley-"

Ron felt his face burn red, "I'm not in love with you."

_Liar._

"Sure," Draco laughed, that cruel, cold, mocking laugh of his. And Ron was just so fucking _tired_ of it, of Draco taking his anger out on him _._ Ron was in front of the Slytherin in seconds, and he smashed him into the wall, hand at his throat. He felt his fingers dig into his flesh. He wasn't thinking straight, he raised his hand, ready to strike. His blood boiled, he saw red, his hand closed into a fist-

And he stopped.

Draco's silver eyes were burning with anger and frustration and challenge, but there was fear in there too. And tears. His lip had started to bleed again,

"Go on," the Slytherin's voice was quiet but dripping with malice, "add another bruise. It makes no difference."

Ron lowered his fist and stepped away. There was a red mark at Draco's throat where he held him and it made Ron feel sick with guilt. He was shaking, but he refused to let Draco see. When he looked at him again, the blonde was smirking as if had won. He hadn't.

"Like anybody could love you," the words came before Ron could stop them. As he turned to the door he saw Draco's expression crumple and it was enough to break his heart.

***

It was a busy day in the Eighth year common room, Draco could see. Actually it was a busy day in the whole school – Easter was a few days away and everyone was packing their suitcases, ready to be whisked off home. Draco watched glumly as Ron, his sister, Granger and Potter all ran around frantically, trying to locate Granger's cat.

Everyone was laughing or in high spirits, the idea of seeing their families cheering them up despite the rain lashing at the windows. It was grey outside. Draco thought that was fitting. He himself was sunk deep into an armchair, wrapped up in a blanket, trying to read a heavy, old tome about the History of Wizarding schools. He wasn't going home for Easter. He didn't have a home...well, technically the Manor was his but the idea of spending two weeks alone in the cold house scared him more than staying at Hogwarts by himself.

He and Ron hadn't spoken since their little encounter in their bathroom. Ron moved back to the couch, which irked Draco to no end. It was as if the boy couldn't handle being anywhere near him... _again._ He had thought that they had got over that.

 _Let him suit himself,_ Draco sulked as he watched his mate tug on his jumper through his head. It sent a pang through him though, knowing that he would be by himself. He wondered if he should say goodbye to Ron. _Better not._

Ron, the Weaselette, Granger and Potter all had those ugly jumpers on; big, woolly things with the first letter's of their names on the front. Ron's clashed horribly with his hair but...Draco bit his lip. For a second he had the wild thought that _it would be nice to be part of them_ but it was gone just as soon. Draco didn't like to dwell on things that would never happen.

But it led him on to another thought track, one that he found himself walking more often each day. What happened after Hogwarts? They were halfway through their final year and then what? The best option Draco could think of was that he and Ron would live separately, and the Gryffindor would only visit him once a month for his heat. _That's more than I deserve,_ Draco thought bitterly as he tried to pay attention to his book. Annoying tears pricked at the back of his eyes, he just hated being alone so much. His heart ached. He'd only have professors, painting and ghosts for company over the holidays. They were going to be drab days.

Draco watched the fire in the hearth instead of the people filtering out of the common room. He didn't want to see their happiness, as bitter as that sounded. They were all going downstairs for the feast with their bags and they they'd be whisked off to the train and then to King's Cross...Draco's hands tightened on the book as the room grew quieter and quieter until it was just him and the crackle of the fireplace. He wondered if it was alright to cry now, but he didn't want to risk someone coming back in and seeing him. He'd rather do it in the privacy of his room.

The boy sighed and shut his book and stood up...and nearly had a heart attack. Ron was standing by the door, looking nervous and unsure, his bag at his feet.

"Merlin," Draco clutched his heart, which pounded wildly, "You scared me."

"I...," Ron started. Draco cut him off,

"Did you forget something?" he asked coldly, desperate to not let his emotions show. Ron studied him for a moment. A long, uncomfortable moment. For some weird reason Draco thought that the boy was trying to remember what he looked like, and it made him squirm underneath the Gryffindor's gaze. Finally Ron just shook his head, and walked out. Draco dragged himself to the bedroom, leaving his heart in front of the fireplace. He felt helplessly sad, with no idea how to fix it.

He surveyed the room. It seemed weirdly grey and sad without Ron and his shock of clothes on the floor. Most of his stuff was gone, leaving behind just silver and green and sadness. Draco stood in the middle of the room for a moment, clenching and unclenching his hands, trying to decide what to do. The rain lashed at the window. The bed looked cold and uninviting, and he didn't want to go back to the common room. Defeated, the boy tried to come to terms with the fact that wherever he went he'd be all alone. Once that might've been appealing, back when he had Blaise and Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle and his house behind him. Back when he had friends. Back when everything didn't hurt so much.

Draco sniffled, feeling overwhelming sadness wash over him. He reached for his wand, the word _silencio_ at the end of his tongue, when the door opened.

Ron eyed the end of his wand nervously,

"What are you doing with that?" he managed. Draco quickly shoved the wand into his pocket and blinked his tears away,

"Why are you still here?" the blonde asked a question of his own instead of answering Ron's. The Gryffindor looked nervous, but determined too, in his stupid Weasley sweater that clashed with his stupid hair.

"I forgot something," he said. Draco blinked and looked around the room, trying to find whatever Ron forgot and get the boy to go already. _Please don't leave me alone..._ his mind said desperately, but Draco ignored it.

"What did you forget?" he asked, walking over to the bed to check under the blankets.

"You."

Draco froze. He blinked and looked up at Ron, letting the blanket fall from his hand. The Gryffindor was looking somewhere to the side, hands in pockets, a blush across his cheeks. Draco's heart skipped a beat.

"I...," he cleared his throat, "What?" he didn't really know what to say. Ron rolled his eyes as then went over and pulled Draco's suitcase from the wardrobe. He began piling in Draco's clothes, and the boy watched him with big eyes, "W-What are you doing?" he squeaked.

"Packing you since you're too busy staring," Ron grumbled, "Want anything specific?"

"N-No...," Draco was confused, his thoughts going round in circles. He clutched his hands together nervously as Ron shoved a bunch of random clothes into the bag and closed it. He threw the strap over his shoulder and was halfway to the door before he realized that Draco wasn't following.

"Come on then," his blue eyes sparkled weirdly and Draco's breath caught. He didn't allow himself a smile, didn't allow Ron to see how happy he was all of a sudden. He walked out with the other boy.

 ***

It was...weird. But in the most delightful way. Draco was swept away by Granger and Ron and Potter and the Weaselette, and none of them seemed to mind his presence. They took up an entire compartment in the train, and it was completely different than all those other times that Draco had on the Hogwarts Express.

For one, there was no boasting or stupid talk about how much money who spent on what, which always happened with his friends and which Draco secretly hated. Instead there were funny stories and complaints about homework, there were snacks and arguments over Quidditch and a game of Exploding Snap. And Draco was included into all of it. Granger got into a debate with him over politics, and Draco found that weirdly she was a good conversation partner. Ron and Potter bickered, and Weaselette left halfway to go find some of her other friends.

The world outside grew darker, Potter persuaded Draco to play chess with him, but the game proved too messy and loud to play on the train. After some time, when night fell outside, everyone quietened down. Granger took out a book and began reading, Potter listened to music from a weird device.

Draco was feeling drowsy, especially as he watched the rain racing down the window. He yawned and leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The express bumped and jumped and Draco gritted his teeth as he couldn't get comfortable. He was hyper-aware of Ron, who sat opposite him and watched. Eventually though, the tiredness got the better of him, and he fell asleep.

***

Ron was going to sort through his chocolate frog cards or sleep or something, but he kind of got taken by Draco. The boy fell asleep, first against the window, looking awkward and uncomfortable, but then a jolt sent him sideways, and he fell against Hermione.

The girl was startled from her reading, but when she glanced down, her expression softened. Draco looked like a cat, all curled up. He also looked a lot younger, his eyelashes sending shadows on his pale cheeks, chest rising and falling.

"I guess people do change," Hermione mused, looking up at Ron with a grin as Draco got comfortable on her shoulder. Ron smiled fondly,

"Yeah," he mumbled, forcing himself to look away for Draco, "Guess they do."

He stared at the world outside, shadowed and wet, and wondered what to do next. By inviting Draco to his home...well, it was unexpected and could cause potential problems, but Ron was still glad he did it. Draco was not who he used to be. He wasn't snobby or arrogant...or at least not that much anymore. He was humbler and even kinder, though lonelier and sadder too. Ron just wished that Draco would let him in, then it would make figuring out their future a lot easier.

Ron couldn't seem to stop staring at Draco, no matter how much he tried to concentrate on the rain. Eventually Hermione dozed off too, and Harry followed soon after. Ron felt better that nobody was judging him as he looked at Draco. He felt weirdly jealous of Hermione as Draco cuddled into her side. Ron watched the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way his hands clenched protectively in his shirt. His cheeks were flushed from sleep, his mouth open ever so slightly.

 _Was he always this beautiful?_ Ron's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously as his face flushed. He was really glad that nobody could see him right now. With his heart pounding at the weird though, Ron glued his face to the window and refused to look away until the train came to a screeching stop and his companions woke up. Ginny came back into the compartment, just as Harry let out the biggest yawn of his life. The girl grinned and kissed his nose and Ron wondered what Draco would do if he did that to him. Probably hit him.

They all sluggishly grabbed their bags. Draco looked sleepy and ruffled, his shirt sticking out from underneath his jumper. Apparently that was the most casual thing he owned. They lost each other in the throng of students pouring out of the express, and found each other right outside, on platform 9 ¾. It was loud, smoke curled from the express, students shuffled past. Harry and Ginny had their arms around each other, Hermione walking with Draco. The blonde looked nervous and deathly pale. It suddenly hit Ron.

 _He's going to meet my family._ He'd be nervous too, if he was Draco. After all, he was on the side of the war that took Fred and Tonks and Lupin...and Sirius before that, Moody and Dumbledore...but that was in the past now. Ron slipped in on Draco's other side and contemplated taking his hand, to show him some comfort, but he didn't get the chance.

He saw the barrier that separated Platform 9 ¾ from Platform 9 and  sprinted for it. Ron felt a brush of air as he passed, and then he was spilling out onto the platform, Harry barging into his back.

"Ouch," Ron rubbed his spine, "Didn't you hear of the wait five seconds rule?"

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. Hermione fell through, followed with Draco and finally Ginny.

"KIDS!" Molly Weasley was waving furiously from a few feet away. It was only her and Arthur, standing next to a small coffee shop, closed for the evening. Harry, Hermione and Ginny swarmed forward, only to be attacked by hugs and kisses. Draco hung back, looking ready to puke.

"I-I can't do this," he stuttered, "they'll hate me."

"Hey," Ron said softly, "They won't. It's alright."

Draco swallowed hard and then shuffled in after Ron as he walked to his parents.

"Ronnie!" Molly threw her arms open and enveloped Ron into a massive, tight hug, "You've grown so much since Christmas!" the woman cooed and kissed both of Ron's cheeks. He felt comforted by her warmth and the familiar smell of her perfume. She pinched his side, and then turned. She saw Draco.

Everyone tensed and Draco stood there, looking ready to run. A surprised smile appeared on Molly's face,

"Draco," she said warmly, and then pulled him into a hug, as if he was part of the family. Draco's eyes widened and then ever so slowly, he hugged Molly back, unsure. Ron felt relieved as he greeted his father. He couldn't stop smiling as everyone shuffled to the car, shouting over one another. He felt all warm and fuzzy as he heard Molly telling Draco  that he needs to put more meat on his bones and when Ron turned around to look at them, he saw that Draco was flushed and smiling, his hair falling into his eyes. For some reason he didn't look like a _Malfoy_ anymore. He looked like a Weasley.


	7. Of Shirts and Dinners

**Of Shirts and Dinners**

"I...I know it's not much," Ron shifted uncomfortably. He did that a lot, was all uncomfortable around Draco. The blonde wished he wasn't like that, he wished Ron was as happy and easygoing as he was around Granger and Potter. Still, he understood why Ron was nervous. His room at Grimmauld Place was certainly not up to _old_ Draco's standard. There was an old broom in one corner, collecting dust, and bright orange moving posters of the Chudley Cannons on the walls. Even Ron's small bed was covered all in orange. A crooked green curtain hung from the window, and there were shoes and clothes and books and parchment strewn across the floor as if Ron lived here all year round and not just for the summer.

"It's fine, I don't need a palace," Draco said, but that's not what he really thought. He thought that Ron's room was weirdly nice and warm and homey in a way that his own never was. Everything looked used and comfortable, and that was kind of what Draco needed right now. Warmth and comfort.

"Right," Ron cleared his throat, "all the guest rooms are taken...err...or too damp to sleep in...Harry usually sleeps here but I can bring a sleeping bag-"

"Ron," Draco turned around and cocked an eyebrow, trying to ease the tension, "It's fine. We sleep together at school. This is _fine._ "

Ron rubbed the back of his head, "Right. I'll leave you to unpack."

He turned to the door but on instinct Draco reached out and grabbed his sleeve. Ron blinked at him owlishly and Draco flushed, his heart pounding suddenly.

"I-I...," he glanced at the ground, unable to look Ron in the eyes, "Thank you...for this."

Ron looked at him for a second, and then he smiled the softest smile in the world that made Draco's heart melt. He ruffled the blonde's hair,

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't mess my hair," Draco grumbled as he turned back to his baggage. Ron left with a creak of the door and the blonde shuffled through his clothes, biting his lip. He had no idea what Ron's family wore to dinner, but from Mr and Mrs Weasley he saw that they were more casual than not. Draco nervously picked through his carefully ironed shirts and dress pants. He _had_ to have a t-shirt _somewhere._

When his efforts proved futile Draco accepted his fate of being overdressed at his first Weasley dinner. But then he saw the shirt hanging off the chair. It was black, and clearly Ron's. Probably the only black thing he owned. Nervously, hands twitching, Draco picked the shirt up. It was short sleeved and clearly too big to fit Draco but still...

The boy raised the shirt and pressed his face into it. He breathed in shakily. The shirt smelled like Ron, like cologne and musk and rain and sweat and cinnamon. _What the hell am I doing?!_ Guiltily, Draco dropped the shirt from his shaking hands, ignoring his flushed face and pounding heart. He turned back to his clothes, and then back to the shirt, and with resignation he picked it back up. His mother always said black made him look like death.

The Slytherin undressed, pulled on the only pair of jeans he owned, and tugged Ron's shirt over his head. It was scratchy and worn against his skin, but somehow that felt nice. The sleeves stopped a few inches above Draco's elbow, the hem coming up just underneath his arse. It was baggy and made him look all rumpled, but Draco liked that. Nervously the boy ran a hand through his hair and eyed himself in the mirror. No matter what he did, and how sloppy he dressed, he still looked like a Malfoy. The boy sighed, wondering when he started to wish he wasn't one.

Grimmauld Place seemed unable to quieten down. Every few seconds someone would shout something, or something would bang in the kitchen or someone would ran down the stairs, sending echoes through the spacious house. The Malfoy Manor was always quiet, even during Death Eater meetings. _Especially_ during Death Eater meeting. Draco shuddered at the memory; cold, pale faces around the dark table, the Dark Lord at the head. _Voldemort. His name was Voldemort._ Draco felt sick all of a sudden. He hated remembering those times. He hated remembering what he'd done, and what had been done to him. He hated remembering the screams and the bodies, and that disgusting snake slithering among their feet under the table.  

The boy turned his arm around, revealing the milky inside of his wrist, and the inky mark there. It had once been a skull eating a snake, but now it was just slashes of old scars where Draco tried to cut the memory away. The ink remained. Draco turned his wrist in disgust. It looked ugly and marred, black on red. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out the bandages he always kept there as a safety precaution. He had just finished covering the hideous scars and remains of the mark when Weaselette came knocking.

_I suppose I should call her Ginny._

"Hey," she was grinning as she stuck her head around the door. She wore that horrible Weasley sweater, her hair in two braids, "Dinner's ready. You coming?"

"I...," Draco glanced at himself in the mirror.

"You look fine," Ginny offered with a dimpled smile, then she frowned, "Is that Ron's shirt?"

"Err..."

"You should know he never does laundry. Merlin knows how long that had been lying around," Ginny didn't wait for Draco's reply, "Mom hates if we're late," she said again and then disappeared. Draco didn't want to go downstairs by himself so he quickly hurried after the girl. Together the two descended a dark, winding staircase. Their footsteps rang through the hallway but Draco didn't feel quite as nervous as he first had when he came out of platform 9 ¾. When Ron whisked him away with no warning Draco had mindlessly agreed, without thinking about how the Weasley's would react.

But Mrs Weasley was kind and warm and Mr Weasley weird but friendly. Of course Draco had Ron with him, and Granger and Potter and Ginny. Still, the moment he went downstairs he would meet all the others. Charles and Percy and Bilius and his wife, Fleur. He would meet Nymphadora Tonks' widowed mother and her orphaned child.

 _You were on the wrong side of the war,_ Draco told himself once again, the way he had a thousand times before. He followed Ginny down a hallway and wondered if perhaps he changed over quicker, if he hadn't let the Death Eaters through the room of requirement...would it had changed anything? If instead of attacking Potter that day in the bathroom when the Gryffindor had cast the _sectusempra_ spell he had listened to him instead, would it have saved lives? Moody and Dumbledore and Snape, Fred Weasley and Tonks and Lupin. Would it have saved his father from Azkaban? Would it have saved his mother's life?

"It's alright," Ginny sounded strangely comforting as she led Draco into the kitchen, but it didn't ease the blonde's nausea. He wanted to go back to Hogwarts and spent the holidays alone, holed up in his room, instead of facing the judgement of the Weasley's. And they had all the right to judge him.

 _Ron deserves better than me_ , he thought bitterly as he walked into the kitchen. A long table dominated it, and pots and pans flew near the ceiling, food landing on plates. Chatter filled the room as everyone sat around, passing their food around and talking over one another. Ginny melted away to sit by her mate, but all heads swivelled to look at Draco, standing in the doorway awkwardly. He felt as if someone had hit him with a numbing spell because he couldn't move.

"Draco!" it was Fleur who spoke first, a beautiful smile blooming on her face. She rose and walked to him, her belly swollen. Draco blinked. Ron hadn't told him that his sister in law was pregnant. _But then again he barely tells me anything. We barely talk._ "Bienvenue!" Fleur said and kissed both of his cheeks softly. Draco was startled for a moment because he only spoke French with his mother. He remembered that during his fourth year he and Fleur had exchanged a few brief words in her mother tongue, but he was surprised she still remembered that he spoke it, "Et toi?"

"Je vais bien," Draco managed, and smiled palely at the girl. She took his hands and he glanced at her stomach, "Combien de mois?"

The woman patted her stomach affectionately, "Sept," she said with a gorgeous smile. She didn't look seven months pregnant.

"Avez-vous choisi un nom?" Draco asked, actually interested.  

"Oui! Oui!" Fleur said excitedly and turned to her husband, Bilius with the long hair and scar on his cheek, "We are calling 'er Victorie!"

"Wonderful name," Draco said softly. Fleur dragged him to the table by the hand. By her acceptance, Draco seemed to win the approval of the rest of the family, who all nodded or smiled at him. Ron was gaping though,

"What are you staring at?" Draco frowned as he took his seat, "You look like a fish."

George snickered into his potatoes and Ron blinked,

"I didn't know you speak French," he said eventually, and then cocked his head to the side "is that my shirt?!"

 Before Draco could reply, Bilius turned to speak to him.

"I didn't know you're from France," he said. He had kind eyes and despite his scar he didn't look as terrifying as Draco expected.

"No," Draco mumbled, "My mother is...was..."

Bilius' face contorted, "I am sorry about what happened," he said. Draco flinched, despite himself a little bit of bitterness remained from the person he once was. He felt that drowning sadness fill him all over again,

"You're probably glad another Death Eater is gone," he said sourly, before he could stop his words. Bilius frowned,

"She saved Harry's life," he said softly, "and she was the mother of my brother's mate. Of course I'm not glad."

There was a lump in Draco's throat and he turned to his plate, "Right. My apologies." He managed. All of a sudden he didn't want to be there, at the table with the Weasley's. _I'm an idiot, they're not my family, they never will be. Ron only brought me out of pity._

"Look," Bilius said kindly, "Draco...may I call you that?"

"Of course," _please don't._

"Well, Draco. The past is the past, nobody holds any grudges against you," the rest of the table was evolved in conversation, nobody hearing Bill's and Draco's exchange of words and for that Draco was glad. He hated interrogations, "We're your family now. If you care to be part of this."

"I...," Draco blinked down at his hands. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know what to say.

"Draco, love," Mrs Weasley interrupted their conversation with her kind, motherly voice, "you're not eating!" she tutted and with a wave of her hand a mountain of potatoes and chicken loaded itself onto Draco's plate, "Eat up, sweetie, put some meat on those bones."

Draco tried to protest, but Fleur advised him not to in French. With a heavy heart Draco started eating. It was good, but Draco wasn't in the mood for a feast and the food felt like rocks in his stomach. He felt like an outsider all over again, just like the moment he returned to Hogwarts for Eighth year and found out that Pansy's family had moved away, Blaise made friends with the Gryffindors and Goyle didn't return to Hogwarts. And Crabbe was dead. Draco had found that his snobbish attitude and acts during the war won him more enemies than friends. He was cornered and beat up, sent threats and blackmail letters. And then even  his own mother had forsaken him.

This felt bitterly like those moments. Draco sat in-between strangers and stared at his food and tried to force himself to eat. After a chiding from Arthur to _leave the poor boy alone_ Mrs Weasley finally stopped pestering the Slytherin after what seemed like hours. Draco gladly welcomed the moment when the plates were cleared and he didn't have to pretend to chew anymore. But then came desert. Draco's stomach churned,

"Sorry, I don't feel well," Draco couldn't sit through the smiles and laughter for a moment longer. Dark thoughts had bloomed in his head. _These people testified against my father. They're the reason he's in Azkaban. They're the reason mother killed herself._ But deep down Draco knew that the Mafloy's had brought their own doom upon themselves.

"Are you ill, sweetie?" Mrs Weasley's worried tone just made everything worse. His mother had spoken to him like that, once upon a time. Draco felt like crying.

"I'm fine," he told the woman, though he knew he was probably pale like death, "I need to lie down."

"Draco-" It was Ron speaking now, and his voice sent both fire and anger through Draco's body.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

" _Draco, is everything alright?_ " Fleur asked in French. That calmed him down slightly because somehow it felt better knowing that Draco had an ally at the table, one who wouldn't spill his secrets away. Hopefully.

" _Forgive me but I need to be alone for a moment,_ " the words rolled off Draco's tongue easily as he rose. The girl squeezed his hand, Draco apologized and then he slipped from the room and out into the corridor. Ron's eyes followed him. It was cooler out of the kitchen, and darker, but Draco could still hear the Weasley's talking and laughing. _Maybe they're laughing at you, you pathetic little boy._ He ran upstairs, through the shadowy interior. With the lights off, Grimmauld place looked almost like Malfoy Manor. He imagined the Dark Lord peering at him from the corners, ready to grasp him with his deathly pale hands.

Draco exploded into the bathroom next to Ron's room and threw up whatever he ate at dinner into the toilet. The boy heaved and retched and then he wiped his mouth and brushed his teeth, hoping the Weasley's hadn't heard. He looked at himself in the mirror and he was all pasty and ill looking, dark shadows under his eyes.

Feeling defeated and helpless, he turned away from his reflection sullenly and walked back down the corridor and into Ron's room. He stripped off his clothes, but stayed in Ron's shirt as he slipped underneath the blankets, shivering. The room was dark and cold and lonely and Draco found himself crying into the pillow soon enough. He was never much good at controlling his crying, but he was good at hiding it. Silent sobs shook his frame and he wondered if he'd ever get over this horrible pain in his chest that wasn't letting up no matter how much time passed. He didn't even remember when that pain started – was it when he got the dark mark? When he almost killed Dumbledore? When he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Was it when he was forced to identify Potter and his friends? Or did it start during the war, when Draco saw his 'comrades' murdering children. Maybe the pain started after that, during the trials.

Before he had just been a snobby kid who thought his father was the King of the world. Before he had been innocent. And then he learned that Lucius Malfoy was just a pawn, and just like a pawn he had fallen in the great game. All of it had broken Draco, and he didn't know how to put himself back together.

He fell asleep, not really realizing when, and when he woke up it was because Ron was slipping underneath the blankets. Draco didn't know how long he slept but his eyes hurt from crying, and his heart hurt from...well, everything. He felt like he had been drugged.

"Weasley?" he mumbled sleepily, his mind muddled.

"Ron," Ron replied, voice barely a whisper. The bed was smaller than the one at Hogwarts, so small that the boys had to press up against each other so Ron didn't fall off. Draco didn't mind, he was so exhausted that being close to Ron felt terribly wonderful. The boy was warm. So, so warm, and Draco was freezing.

"Ron," Draco agreed in a mumble. He reached out, not knowing for what, and his hand curled into Ron's shirt.

"Shh, go to sleep," Ron's voice was so soft and gentle that it made Draco want to cry again. Draco's eyes were already closing, the room was dark. Ron drew him into his arms and Draco felt content for a moment. His eyes still burned from crying so he closed them and pressed himself into his mate. The Gryffindor's arms were wrapped tightly around him, as if to keep him safe, and Draco fell asleep just like that.


	8. Of Bludgers and Snitches

**Of Bludgers and Snitches**

 

****

Draco, to his dismay, was woken not by Ron's warm body pressed into his, but by Granger. The boy couldn't quite pinpoint the moment when he started yearning for Weasley, and he preferred not to think about it too much, but the realization that he wanted Ron came to him that specific morning, like an epiphany.

"Breakfast is ready," Granger said, standing in the doorway. Her bushy hair was pulled from her face, and she was smiling at him. _Why are they always smiling? It's not like they like me, they barely tolerate me, I should've never came._ Draco thought bitterly as shuffled out of bed and into the shower. The bathrooms in Grimmauld place were dark and damp, and no amount of scented candles and patterned carpets could change that. As Draco scrubbed himself, he wondered why Ron left the bed. He knew that the Gryffindor was not a morning bird, and yet he had taken the liberty to not wake at the same time as Draco. _He hates me._

Draco had to _literally_ force himself to go downstairs. This time he had no Ginny for moral support, and he didn't know if he was glad or sad for that. He just kind of wanted all these weird things...mostly he wanted to curl up in bed with Ron and never leave, but of course the Slytherin would never admit that out loud. Unless he went into heat, then he could be as needy as he wanted to be, as he needed to be.

Draco refused to look at anyone as he walked into the kitchen and  slid into a wooden chair. It was quiet, everyone was either half-asleep still, or just too tired or lost in thought to talk. Molly had an artillery of bacon and eggs on the table, and Draco felt some of his appetite return, despite how queasy he felt. He nibbled on the food, feeling awkward silence weight down on him, until George came downstairs.

"What is this?!" he whined as his sister dragged him in. His hair was flat on one side where he slept on it, and he was still in his pyjamas, "Mom, it's _Easter._ Let me sleep woman!"

"The day does not start at noon, George!" his mother scolded, threatening him with a wooden spoon. Draco hid his smile behind a piece of toast, watching the exchange. George sulkily sat down, and continued to complain in-between bites as his mother loaded more bacon onto the plate. A lot of it was disappearing worriedly quickly, eaten mostly by Ron. Draco had no idea where he put all the food.

"What's with you and waking everyone up," George said and crumbs spilled from his mouth, "I bet even Malfoy is annoyed," he looked at Draco, "Isn't it Malfoy?"

"Don't get me involved," Draco said innocently, picking at his toast. Ginny threw the crust of her bread across the table, hitting George in the forehead,

"Close your mouth!" she said, eyeing the moist breadcrumbs in front of her brother in disgust. Ron snickered and then a baby's squeal sounded down the corridor. Draco hadn't had the chance to meet little Teddy Lupin or his grandmother because they were sleeping when he arrived, and now his stomach clenched painfully. _His parents are dead because I let Death Eaters through the room of requirement,_ he remembered with a pang as the woman came in. She looked like a typical, kind grandmother with none of her daughter's creative flare or colourful hair. The boy in her arms was a different story.

He was maybe a year and a bit, with a shock of aquamarine hair on top of his head, and big curious eyes. He was making little gurgling sounds and grinning at the world, only two teeth in his little mouth. He bit at his tiny fists and squealed when a delighted Granger took him into her arms. Draco wanted to puke. When he had done all those things the Dark Lord demanded...he did it for his family. So selfish, now they were taken from him anyway and this poor little child was an orphan _because of him._

For some reason Ron must've sensed his distress, because he reached underneath the table and squeezed Draco's hand. That made the Slytherin feel helplessly better but he still couldn't bring himself to look up at anyone. His heart hurt, and he wondered if that cheerful little boy knew that Draco helped kill his parents.

"Here, Ron," Granger walked over and slid Teddy into the Gryffindor's arms, "take him for a moment."

Draco stole a glance upward as Ron slid his hand from his to hold the child. Teddy Lupin squealed and grabbed Ron's cheeks with two fists, pulling gently. His eyes were laughing, his little mouth smiling. He was such a beautiful, innocent child with no knowledge of what happened around him, that the murderer of his parents was centimetres away.

Too late, Draco realized the child was staring at him. Teddy peered at him and scrunched up his little aquamarine eyebrows, trying to figure out who the stranger was. Draco stared back at him, his hands digging into the chair, knuckles white, as he tried to find his voice.

"Hello," he said finally, softly, because what else was he meant to say to the boy he _orphaned_? Teddy's face lit up at his words, and he let out an adorable squeal and then his little hands groped forward. He leaned out of Ron's arms and tried to climb into Draco's, "No, No, don't give me the baby-" Draco said, panicking.

"Just take him," Ron turned to pass him the child.

"No, I-"

It was no use arguing, Ron slid Teddy into Draco's arms and the Slytherin had no choice but to hold him. Teddy was warm and he squirmed in Draco's grasp as his little hands reached up to pat at his face. He stared like Draco was the most interesting thing in the world. Draco held his breath, feeling the eyes around the table watching him. But he himself didn't look up from Teddy, waiting for the child to start crying. Instead, the boy gave a little laugh, and his hair turned from aquamarine to the same pale blonde as Draco's.  

It made Draco smile, even though he felt like crying, but he didn't know if from grief, sadness, or relief. When he looked up from the overjoyed child, Ron was watching him with that soft expression of his, the one that made Draco shiver and feel as if Ron wanted to cherish him. But the look was gone as soon as their eyes met.  

***

It was a chilly morning but the sun shone brightly and promised a warmer afternoon, even as mist snaked through the park. Draco's hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he stood in the damp grass, bundled up in three layers of shirts. He really needed to invest in some new, more practical clothes, like jumpers or hoodies that his wardrobe seemed to currently lack.

The Weasley's, Granger, Potter and Fleur stood around in a circle, all clutching old brooms. Draco's hand was wrapped around the handle of one that Ron borrowed him, and it felt weird against his palm. Draco was used to expensive, new brooms, but this one was chaffed and rough and worn, and yet it fit into his palm better than anything his father ever bought him.

"Alright," Bill's voice carried over the field. It had been spelled so muggles couldn't see the game of Quidditch that was about to ensue, "Who wants to captain?"

 _Me,_ was at the end of Draco's tongue, because he was so used to being in charge and having people follow him. And yet something stopped him; he didn't think anybody would want to be on a team with him, and he wasn't about to test that theory out. So instead he just tightened his hold on his broom and watched as Granger and George were selected as team captains. Bill instructed them to start picking teams, and Draco was pleasantly surprised when George picked him as his second choice, right after Charlie.

Somehow Draco ended up on one team with George, Charlie, Ginny and Bill, playing against the rest of the participants. Ron had explained that quidditch at the local park helped to de-stress everyone, and Draco was more than happy to participate, rather than stay at Grimmauld with Mrs Tonks. Her grandson might've been oblivious to Draco's crimes, but she sure as hell wasn't.

 They all mounted their brooms, and Bill let out the snitch that George had nicked from Hogwarts a few years ago, during Umbridge's reign. Soon enough, Draco was in the air, twirling through the wind. It was colder up there, but clearer too. It reminded Draco of the night he and Ron went flying, when it had started raining. Unlike then, the sun was shining and Draco could see around him perfectly, the town close by, the mist snaking through the pale green trees below. Just like old times, he was up against Potter to try and capture the snitch while the others battled it out below, trying to get the quaffle through loops made of tree branches.

If truth be told, Quidditch was never Draco's thing. His father had his moment of glory during his years at Hogwarts, but nothing near enough to live up to Charlie Weasley's legacy. The man had insisted that his son take up the sport, buying him Quidditch books and the newest models of brooms. It's not that Draco _hated_ it...but he didn't love it either. The only reason he got on the team was because he bought his way in, and the only amusement he got from it was taunting Potter. But every match turned bitter in his mouth when he ended up losing, or in the mud, or both. Maybe if he had a passion for it, or if he was more talented, maybe he would've been able to beat Potter. Not that it mattered anymore. Not many things mattered to Draco Malfoy these days.

_Ron matters._

" _Bludger_!" Percy Weasley yelled out the warning, and just in time because Draco was snapped out of his thoughts to see the heavy ball speeding towards him. With his heart in his throat, the boy whirled to the left, his stomach flipping as he did a three-sixty in the air. Bill and Charlie whooped at his manoeuvre, and the bludger moved past Draco and onto Ron, who easily hit it to the side, muscles rippling as he swung his bat. For a moment Draco was mesmerized, but he was brought back to reality when he saw Potter diving down.

Training made Draco press himself down to his broom, and race towards Potter. This was safe, familiar. He saw a flicker of gold and a flutter of wings. Below, the other players were scoring points but without Lee Jordan's trusty commentary, Draco had no clue what was happening. He just decided to concentrate on the snitch and maybe let himself catch it for once. Before he knew it, the Slytherin was shoulder to shoulder with Potter, both of them speeding towards the ground as quickly as their old brooms would allow them. The wind whistled in Draco's ears.

"Not today Potter," he yelled, but his words had no malice behind them, "I'll get the snitch!"

"In your dreams Malfoy," Potter grinned at him. Draco's heart clenched, and he realized that it could've always been like this; they could have been friends, playing on opposite teams, but not trying to throw each other of their brooms. But what had Draco done wrong? All he wanted was to be Potter's friend, back then, on the train, he had offered his hand-

_I'm a horrible person. Even Potter who didn't know who I was knew that._

Draco's thoughts were too jumbled, his emotions confused. He could barely concentrate and once more he spaced out. By the time he pulled up sharply, his feet had brushed the grass and he had come dangerously close to crashing into the ground. With a shake of his head, the boy pulled himself back to the sky, Potter had flown off, as had the snitch. The game continued.

Draco stalled, hovering in the end and trying to spy the snitch. Ron came up next to him, bat in one hand. His cheeks were flushed, hair tousled by the wind, eyes sparkling with excitement. Draco had never seen anyone half so captivating.

"Are you alright?" Ron's voice was low but breathless, and it sent a shiver through Draco.

"Why?" the boy frowned. Did he do something weird? Ron shook his head,

"You seem distracted."

"Potter's pissing me off," Draco lied. Ron laughed,

"Stop letting everything get to you so much," he must've seen the bludger, but Draco didn't. Only Ron's fast reflex saved him from being knocked off the broom by the ball which sped towards them.

"Oi!" Ginny yelled from below, where she passed the quaffle to Bill, "You two playing or having a chat?!"

Ron rolled his eyes, "Concentrate," he told Draco, and for a second he looked almost like he wanted to kiss him. _You're imagining things,_ Draco told himself as his heartbeat sped up. With a red face, the boy spiralled away from his mate.

He flew around aimlessly, trying to get his body to calm down, and attempting to spot the snitch again. He kept getting distracted by Ron, spinning through the air, counter-attacking the bludgers against George. He was graceful but strong, something Draco could never hope to be.

By the time he and Potter saw the snitch again, most of the players were splattered in mud from coming too close to the ground.  

Draco flew up into the clear, pale sky, with Potter at his side. He saw a flutter of wings, at the end of his extended hand, close enough to touch. He felt the brush of the metal on his palm, the sun glistening off his hair, making it seem silver. He was so close, but of course Potter was Potter, the golden boy, and his fingers closed over the snitch before Draco's, and the game was over.

With a heavy heart, Draco descended back to the ground. He remembered that after every game back at Hogwarts, the Slytherin team would shout at him for being useless, blaming their failure during the match on his inability to catch the snitch. _And they were right; I'm useless. I can't even catch a damn snitch. I can't do anything really, my name was all I had and now that's taken from me too. What am I if I'm not a rich and powerful Malfoy? I'm just Draco, who's decent at potions and not much good at anything else..._

But it was different with the Weasley's.

"Good game," Percy clasped Draco's shoulder when the boy landed and that was that; no arguments, no sulking, no shouting. The Weasley's banded together into a tight group, Draco in the middle with Fleur and George, included in the banter. They talked and laughed, almost everyone was muddy or wet, apart from Draco and Potter. They were all starving, all grinning as they walked through the park, brooms in hands, feet sinking into the muddy patches in the grass. The morning was cold, but wonderfully so, and the air was slowly warming.

Ron fell in next to Draco,

"You alright?" he asked, grinning. There was a smudge of mud on his cheek and without really thinking about it, Draco reached up and wiped it off with the back of his sleeve. His eyes widened when he realized what he did, and Ron stared at him. Draco's hand dropped. _Why does he always make my mind shut down?_ Draco thought distractedly, trying to get his body to keep working. Instead, he stopped walking, but so did Ron.  The others left them in the back, facing each other with weird, confused looks on their faces as if they had had a sudden realization. The two boys stared at each other for what seemed like long minutes. Laughter drifted over from the rest of their group. Draco's eyes slid to Ron's lips. They were chapped, but probably warm. Draco knew what they felt like, could remember it through a haze of heat. They were rough and hungry and-

 _Kiss him,_ Draco's mind prompted desperately, _He's right there, just kiss him you coward._ It would have been so easy, just leaning forward, pressing their lips together. Draco was a millisecond from giving in to his sudden urge, to just taking Ron's face in his hands and kissing him and telling him all that had been going around in his head for days, when Ron cleared his throat and started walking again, breaking the sudden spell.

"Hurry up!" he said, through Draco noted his red cheeks, "we'll be late to dinner."


	9. Of Girls Across Bars and Advice

**Of Girls Across Bars and Advice**

 

****

Ron and Charlie were down at the pub not far from Grimmauld, talking over a few pints of beer. A few pints of beer which were soon followed by a few shots firewhiskey. Ron remembered too late the reason he didn't go out drinking with Charlie, as his head swam from the alcohol. It was dark outside, but warm, the spring was really here, and Ron felt it. The pub filled up more and more as time progressed, though Ron couldn't tell you exactly how much, and more drunk witches and wizards stumbled around, laughing and shouting, spilling alcohol and singing bawdy songs.

"So...," Charlie's eyes sparkled as he grinned lopsidedly at Ron, "Draco Malfoy, eh?"

"Mhmmm," Ron had no strength to properly speak, or even to open his mouth. His head felt fuzzy, his mind and body detached. He couldn't coordinate himself properly, and almost knocked his glass off of the bar. Charlie laughed. Ron's head felt like it was mead of lead, weighing down on his shoulders. He slumped to the side.

"Woah, easy there," Charlie steadied his brother, a smirk of amusement on his lips, "Looks like you haven't drunk in a while, huh."

"Why do you wanna know 'bout Draco," Ron mumbled, his brain only now catching up to the previous question. Charlie shrugged and sipped on his firewhiskey,

"Dunno, just interested how the whole thing works between you two."

"What? Like...," Ron's nose wrinkled, "Like sex?" he added, in a dramatic whisper as if anyone in the bar could even hear him over the clatter of glasses and the voices. Charlie burst out laughing at his brothers ridiculousness, but nodded, amused. Ron looked like a sulking puppy, and seemingly forgot to be all stuttery and blushy about the topic while under the influence of alcohol, "We 'nly fuck during 'is heat," he hiccup and scowled down at his empty glass.

Charlie frowned, and apparently he wasn't as sober as he initially seemed, "How come?" he asked, and called for another round of the alcohol with a sloppy hand wave. Ron shrugged, his face flushed, pupils dilated, movement clumsy.

"Dunno," he mumbled, and Charlie had to strain to hear him over the loudness of the pib. Ron's mind was muddled, and he didn't know why he was telling Charlie all of this, "'s like...he doesn't wan' me touching 'im when he's not in heat..."

Charlie pondered this.

"Sounds like he doesn't love you," he slurred. It felt like someone had slashed at Ron with a knife, but the last parts of his sober brain tried desperately to keep up his facade of not caring.

"I don't love him either!" his protest was weak and his speech muddled. Charlie didn't have the strength to argue with that as he sloshed down some more of his whiskey, most spilling on his shirt. A girl was making big eyes at him from across the bar, and it made Charlie grin. Despite being the oldest, the man was still a bachelor, and enjoyed dragons as much as he enjoyed one night stands.

"Here's my advice," he told Ron as he stumbled to his feet, movement uncoordinated, "If there's nothing between you two then just...relieve yourself. Have some fun. Malfoy doesn't care." And with that, Ron's brother disappeared in a throng of people to try and woo the girl across the bar, leaving Ron to sulk over his whiskey and ponder what the older Weasley just told him.

But Ron's mind was riddled with alcohol and he could barely remember what day it was, and the only thing ringing in his head was _Malfoy doesn't care, Malfoy doesn't care, Malfoy doesn't care-_

Was it so bad? Being with Ron? The thought made Ron sad, knowing that Draco would never really want him outside of his heats. He wasn't _that_ unbearable, was he?

"Hey there," a girl slid into the chair opposite Ron. She was pretty; soft dark curls, red lips, a nice figure. It felt like Ron was ticking off a list, and he looked at her but it didn't stop him from smiling drunkenly. He was always too friendly. The smile encouraged the girl to sidle a bit closer and Ron was assaulted by her overwhelming perfume. She smelled like every other girl, sickly sweet. _Draco smells different,_ "What's such a handsome lad doing at a  bar all by himself?" the girl spoke again, and her words felt like needles in Ron's throbbing brain.

"Drinking," Ron mumbled. The girl threw her head back and laughed as if just said the most brilliant thing ever.

"Well, an unmated gal like me," Ron's mind just caught up to the fact that she was sliding her hand up his thigh, "would sure like to spend more time with you."

Ron must've spaced out for a few seconds because the next thing he knew was she was kissing him. The boy tasted alcohol and cherry lipstick. The girls tongue was wet and demanding as it battled with Ron's, and the boy barely registered that he was kissing her back. _Draco kisses differently,_ Ron thought even as the girl practically climbed into his lap. His hands grabbed her hips automatically, feeling her soft curves press into him, but he didn't really feel anything. His mind started wandering as the girl practically ate his face. _I wish she was Draco. I wonder if I close my eyes...maybe...he's smaller, skinnier. All those sharp bones and...Merlin, I wish I was kissing him. He fits so perfectly into me, I wish it was him..._

But it wasn't. It was the girl. Still, Ron's treacherous body didn't seem to care as he felt himself stiffen in his pants, imagining silver eyes and tousled blonde hair and miles of endless, pale skin.

"Why don't we go back to yours?" the girl's breath ghosted over Ron's ear. He didn't recall when she stopped kissing him. The boy blinked sluggishly and his first thought was _Mom's gonna have a fit,_ but then he remember that he was nineteen and he could do whatever he wanted. As the girl slid from his lap and tugged him off the stool, Ron tried to remember the other reason for why this was a bad idea, but his mind was too slow and he couldn't remember.

Instead, he let the girl pull him through the crowd and outside into the  night. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as soon as the cooler air hit him, like a tentacle monster, and pulled him in for another sloppy kiss. They were both drunk. It was a miracle that Ron managed to apparate them to the street outside Grimmauld in one piece. The moment Grimmauld place appeared, the two stumbled up the stairs, their mouths still connected. Ron didn't like the feel of the girl's mouth on his, all wet and demanding, but he pretended it was Draco and that made all of it better.

 _He would never let me touch him like this,_ Ron thought drunkenly as his hand trailed down the girls' body as his other hand fumbled with the door, _he'd smack me 'round the face if I tried to kiss him._ The snog continued all the way into the dark, dim corridor of Grimmauld. Ron slammed the door shut after him and the girl as he started clumsily undoing the buttons on her shirt. His movements felt slow and uncoordinated. The girl didn't pulled Ron's shirt over his head. She seemed pleased with what she saw, but didn't seem to notice where she was exactly.

"What's your name?" she slurred as she pulled Ron's head down to her neck. He didn't get a chance to answer. In the dark, he could pretend that she was Draco. He kissed up her neck but she smelled and tasted all wrong. _She's not Draco._ Ron pulled away, breathing hard as his mind reeled. The girl was grinning like a cat, like a predator, her shirt open, exposing her breasts, almost spilling from her bra. Ron didn't want her. He wanted _Draco._

"I-" he started, his mind muddled. _I want you to go away. I want Draco, only him, nobody else..._ The girl didn't seem to care what Ron had to say as she gripped the back of his head and pulled him towards her again. Their mouths collided, she tasted like alcohol, he tasted like alcohol, _Malfoy doesn't care._

"What the hell?!" the shout was loud and rang through Ron's brain like a bullet. He pulled away from the girl and light flooded the corridor, causing blinding pain to go through his head. When his eyes adjusted, he saw that the ruckus he and the girl had made had woken Harry, Fleur and-

_Draco._

"Mate," Harry's eyes were wide and sleepy as he glanced from Ron to the girl. He wasn't wearing his glasses, "What are you doing?"

"Are you insane?!" Fleur screeched as she flew at the couple in fury, pushing them apart violently. She looked furious, "Get out!" she hissed at the girl, who looked confused, "cover yourself! Get out!" the French girl forced the other one out of the front door with pushes and shoved. Ron's drunken brain supplied him with the information that he was royally screwed.

"Hey," he complained, as if he had no brain-to-mouth filter, his words slurred, "I was going to fuck her."

Fleur slapped him, hard, and it echoed through the hallway. It caused Ron to sobered up slightly and he blinked at the sudden pain. He gave Fleur a bewildered look, and rubbed his cheek. She started shouting at him but he just turned to Harry and Draco to tell them to go back to sleep. Draco's look made Ron's words stop in his throat, and his hand froze on his cheek.

The boy looked so _broken._

"I...," Ron knew he had to say something. His heart clenched. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Fleur was fuming, Harry was confused, and Draco was just looking at Ron like he had just broke his heart. _You're the one who broke mine!_ Ron wanted to shout at him, but no words came.

"Go after her," Draco's voice was surprisingly steady and impassive, "I'm sure she still wants to fuck," his last word was spat out with venom that made Ron stumble back. Before his eyes, the Gryffindor saw Draco retreat back into the shell that he had tried so hard to break over the last few months. Fleur was cursing him in French, and the Slytherin turned on his heel and went upstairs, the French girl hot on his heels. Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder after a moment.

"You really messed up," he told him softly, as if Ron didn't already know that. He wanted to puke or cry or both. Instead, he let his best friend lead him upstairs. When he got to his and Draco's bedroom, he found that the Slytherin was not there. The bed was cold, the covers made and cold. A stupid thought came into Ron's brain, _what if he was waiting up for me?_

He laid in bed and tried to sleep, but he was dizzy and confused. He waited for Draco, but the blonde didn't appear. Ron still waited, until he couldn't anymore, and he fell asleep like a child. He dreamed that he was in a dark place, and when the doors opened and he stepped outside, he was in an abandoned classroom. Draco stood opposite him, shaking and afraid, wand in hand. Seconds before Ron woke up, Draco whispered _riddikulus._

***

Draco didn't know what to do. On one hand, he could leave Grimmauld Place and nobody would blame him. He could go back to Hogwarts and hole up in his room and cry. But that would be admitting that Ron's escapade hurt him. On the other hand, he could stay with the Weasley's until the end of Easter break, and suffer through having to see Ron every day and pretending that his actions didn't affect the Slytherin. And that option hurt. That hurt _so bad._ Nobody knew that it did, everyone thought that Draco couldn't care less who Ron Weasley fucked, and who he didn't. But he did care, of course he cared. He was _in love_ for Merlin's sake, but he wasn't about to tell Ron anytime soon. Not after last night.

Only Fleur understood. He stayed up with her all night in the library, with both of them curled up in armchairs. Draco cried, even though he didn't want to, not in front of her, or anyone for the matter. But it hurt to know that Ron would rather fuck a stranger rather than Draco.

All his life, the Slytherin was taught that mates were for life, that they found it repulsive to be with anyone else, that they were destined _only_ to be with each other. That they fit like puzzle pieces. It never even crossed Draco's mind to look for someone other than Ron, but clearly it crossed Ron's. No matter how much he cried, Draco couldn't erase the image of _his_ mate pressed into that girl. He kissed her the way he never kissed Draco.

Fleur told him things to make him feel better. _He cares for you, he just doesn't know how to show it..._ it didn't make a difference to Draco. When he came down to breakfast, he desperately tried to act as if nothing happened. He put up his wall again, the wall that he wore during the War to not show anyone how afraid he was. He smiled and played with little Teddy, ate a full plate of breakfast even though he vomited it all up afterwards. He talked with Granger and Ginny, and ignored Fleur's worried looks. He didn't look at Ron, couldn't bring himself to.

"Only three days left," Molly chided sadly as she spelled the plates from the table and into the sink, "how sad. I won't see you all until summer." She sighed.

"We should have a campfire," George said, mouth full of eggs, "tomorrow night."

"Yes!" Bill agreed, "We could invite some friends, have food and-"

"Fireworks!" George's eyes gleamed.

" _No._ "

"Yes."

"We could ask Luna and Neville," Potter mused, more to Ginny than anyone else. The other agreed. Draco sat in silence, Teddy Lupin in his lap. _Three days. Three days and it's over and I don't have to be close to Ron anymore._ Draco didn't know how he'd live through his next heat, but he was determined not to let Ron Weasley anywhere

fucking near

him.

Ever again.


	10. Of Bonfires and Words

**Of Bonfires and Words**

Draco acted normal. Mostly. Or not really. It confused Ron. One second the boy would be fine, laughing with everyone and pretending they were all friends, and the next he'd become cold and emotionless, as if there was a wall between him and everyone else. After the first day, gradually Draco began acknowledging Ron again. But it was all _wrong._ The Gryffindor felt disgusting, and it had nothing to do with the amount of puke that landed in the bowl because of his hangover the next morning.

He _really_ ruined it. The boy remembered the previous night like a blur; Charlie and the firewhiskey, the girl across the bar and his brother's terrible advice. And then that girl he picked up, whose face he couldn't even remember. He remembered Draco's face though, as it crumbled in front of him when he saw them together.

The day went on normally, mom scolded Ron, Fleur ignored him, Draco acted normally. After nursing his hangover, Ron helped de-gnome the garden. Around noon, Charlie stumbled in without a shoe and mom shouted at him even more than she had at Ron. They had dinner, Ron's head hurt, he went shopping with Hermione for something he couldn't remember.

When he laid in bed, he couldn't sleep. Draco didn't come to sleep next to him and Ron subconsciously missed his warmth and his bony elbows. It was a blow, but Ron understood that. If he was the Slytherin he'd never come anywhere near himself ever again. Ron couldn't believe how much of a dickhead he had been. _But it's not like he actually cares,_ his mind offered, _he's only angry because I hurt his pride. It's not like I cheated._ Even though Ron knew that, he still felt sick to the stomach when he remember his actions.

***

Ron walked across the grass and dumped an armful of twigs and branches into the rapidly growing stash. They could have just started the campfire magically but dad decided it was a good team bonding exercise to do it manually. Percy finished up the last bunch, tossing the final bits of wood onto the bonfire. Ron wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and watched as the sky turn amber as the sun set. Once again they were out in 'their' quidditch field, magicked so muggles couldn't see it.

A lot more people have showed up than originally intended; Neville and Luna, and Hagrid and McGonagall, who came down from Hogwarts for the evening. There was Kingsley, the frequent guest of Grimmauld.  A bunch of students also showed up, courtesy of George, and Ron could see Lee Jordan, Penelope Clearwater – Percy's mate – Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood. All in all, the field was crawling with witches and wizards, talking and laughing and exchanging jokes, drinking or bickering.

"So we're lighting it or what?" Bill asked as he sauntered over to his brooding brother. Fleur was excitedly talking with Angelina, gesturing wildly and rubbing her stomach, and Bill looked at her fondly.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled. He couldn't help the grumpiness, he was in a bad mood ever since the stupid pub escapade with Charlie, "Sure, light it."

So Bill did. Ron watched from a distance as the massive mountain of timber went out up in flames, orange and gold, swirling up into the navy sky. The crowd cheered and surged forward to the refreshments and to roast marshmallows and to drink beer. Ron watched sulkily as the smoke climbed upwards and then disappeared into the stars. He could barely hear the flames cackling over the people.

"Ron," it was Luna, who seemingly appeared from nowhere. She was wearing her sunglasses and Ron gave her a tight smile, wondering how she even saw anything in them.

"Hey," he said half-heartedly. He knew that Luna was Draco's best friend, and he probably already told her what an absolute bloody wanker Ron was. If he did, Luna didn't show it,

"It's a nice bonfire," she said in the dreamy way that she often said things, her eyes drifting over to said bonfire, "the fire looks like a sunset."

"Right," Ron leaned against a tree bark, hands in his pockets, feeling like he had a dark cloud over his head.

"Are you alright, Ron?" Luna asked kindly, studying him. With the flames reflecting off of her silver hair, she looked almost like a Weasley. She just missed the freckles.

"No." Ron hadn't meant to say it, but it just kind of slipped out. Luna looked like she already knew,

"Draco isn't alright either, you know," she said softly.

"I know," Ron sighed, "I wounded his pride."

"You broke his heart," Luna murmured. It made Ron's eyes widen in surprise and something weird twist inside him.

"Did...," he licked his lips nervously, "Did he tell you that?" _Maybe...maybe there's a chance-_

"He didn't have to," Luna dove into her ornamented, weird beady bag and brought out a small purple vial. She held it out to Ron, and the Gryffindor blinked at it,

"Err...," he accepted it, not knowing what else to do. The liquid inside looked like water, clear and odourless, "What is this?"

"Veritaserum."

"Merlin _fuck_ ," Ron dropped the vial into the grass like it was on fire, "Are you _insane_?! The prime minister is here! Do you want me to get arrested?!"

"I want you and Draco to finally accept your feelings," Luna frowned as if she didn't understand the Gryffindor's outburst. She took his hand, "Ron," she said softly, "I have no mate. But you do. And you love him."

"I don't," Ron protested weakly. Luna picked up the truth serum and pressed it back into Ron's palm.

"Two drops," she said, "I'll tell Draco you want to talk," she kissed his cheek, and skipped off towards the fire, careless and free and painfully sad. Ron watched her go, mouth open. He slipped past the crowd and down the field. It was darker and colder further from the fire, and Ron's hand nervously played with the vial as he exited the park, feet sinking into the muddy grass. The walk to Grimmauld was short, the wind picked up. When he got home there was nobody there.

The house was dark and eerily silent. Ron shuddered as his footsteps echoed as he climbed upstairs. His room was eye-fucking orange, the covers thrown to the side. Ron quickly straightened the blankets out and bit at his thumb from nerves. He paced. He looked out of the window but all he saw was streetlamps and the occasional car. He went downstairs. He got two bottles of water and came back upstairs. He put the bottles on the bed. He stared at them. He stood. He paced. He bit his thumb. He bit his lip. His lip bled. He brushed his teeth. He looked out of the window. Silence. Darkness. He opened one of the bottles and poured two drops of Veritaserum inside it with shaking hands. He put it back down. He stared at it. He stood. He paced. He went for a piss. He came back. _Draco's not coming._ He opened the other bottle and poured two drops of Veritaserum inside it too. He put the bottles on the desk-

A knock sounded and Ron jumped, his heart pounding. He tried to look casual, like he wasn't about to do something highly illegal.

"Err...come in," he managed, though his voice sounded all weird. Draco stepped inside. He wore a grey jumper that brought out his eyes. His face was impassive, neutral, but he was hovering near the door nervously.

"Luna said you wanted to talk," his eyes were cold but Ron could see the uncertainty flicker behind them. He was faced with a horribly difficult decision, either pretend that everything was fine and let Draco go, or use the Veritaserum or-, "Are you gonna talk or stare?!" Draco asked impatiently. Ron opened and closed his mouth, "Merlin you really are an idiot," the boy sighed, "I'm going back to the bonfire." He spotted the water bottles on the table, and without permission he took one and turned to the door.

"Wait!" the word came out of Ron by itself. Draco gave him a quizzical look over his shoulder, "I...," Ron looked away and clenched his hands into fists. He couldn't do it. He couldn't force Draco to take the serum, "There's Veritaserum in that."

Draco looked like he was slapped in the face, and just like that his wall crumbled away.

"Are you fucking not right in the fucking head?!" the boy whirled on Ron. He dropped the bottle of water onto the bed and threw himself at Ron with his fists. Ron let him punch him a few times, though it didn't really hurt, "You piece of shit! First you pull that shit w-with the girl, a-and then...," Draco's face was red, he was breathing hard through his fury, "what the fuck do you want?! Why are you trying to force me to take that?! Why the fuck do you want to interrogate me?!"

"I don't," Ron caught Draco's wrists in his own. The blonde glared at him and tried to wrench free, "Draco listen to me...I-I...I didn't want you to...all I wanted-"

"Was to fuck that girl," Draco spat, "Yes I know."

"You really don't," Ron mumbled and let go of Draco's hands. It was hard; the boy was so close and Ron wasn't even allowed to touch him. The Slytherin climbed off of the bed, fuming.

"You're so...," he couldn't seem to find the words, his jaw clenched. Ron sat on the bed, and felt his heart tumble out of his chest. _I'm such an idiot._ Draco stared at him, "You know what?" he said after a second, "Fine."

Before Ron could stop him, he reached for one of the water bottles, and gulped down a massive sip. Ron watched him with his mouth hanging open,

"Draco what the fuck?" he said weakly. He slumped and the other boy calmly closed the bottle and chucked it to the side. He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly and closed the door with his foot,

"Go on," he seethed, "Interrogate me, Weasley."

Ron's mouth felt dry. _Do you hate me now? Do you feel anything for me? Do you love me? Would you hate me if I loved you?_  "No," he said instead. Draco huffed out an un-amused laugh and sat down on the bed opposite Ron. The Gryffindor watched him. Draco looked drunk, his cheeks flushed with anger, his pupils dilated. Ron had a thousand questions, but he couldn't seem to get any past his lips. His heart pounded painfully,

"I'm sorry," he managed.

"That's not a question," Draco's eyes were so angry Ron actually felt scared. He could only see one way out of the situation. He reached for the spare water bottle.

"No!"

He took a long gulp. It just tasted like water, and when he chucked the bottle to the side, Draco looked lost. His anger was gone, replaced by hesitation. He looked like he didn't know what to say. _He doesn't want me to tell him. He doesn't want me to admit that I love him. Because he hates me._

"I didn't want to sleep with that girl," the words came easily because Ron wanted to say them. Draco regarded him hesitantly,

"Then why did you bring her home?" he asked accusingly.

"I was drunk," Ron mumbled, and then another sentence was ripped from his throat, "In the dark I could pretend it was you."

Ron flushed at his own words and Draco stared at him. And then he blushed too,

"Did it bother you?" Ron desperately wanted the upper hand, "That I was with a girl?"

"Yes," the word was out of in a second, and Draco slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with panic.

"Why?" Ron questioned.

Draco mumbled something into his hand but it was muffled. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to regain control over himself. He was shaking. Ron frowned and reached across the bed to gently ease Draco's hand away from his mouth. He couldn't bring himself to let go of his hand,

"Is this okay?" he asked softly. Draco nodded hesitantly, clearly not trusting his voice. His hand was soft and shaky in Ron's. The Gryffindor felt dizzy and he gently tugged Draco closer. The Slytherin didn't put up a fight. He was looking down, his eyelashes casting shadows on his flushed cheeks. Ron felt all weird, his heart alternating between pounding really hard to skipping beats. He reached out and tucked a piece of Draco's hair behind his ear. His hand lingered on the boy's cheek and the blonde sucked in a quiet breath, but didn't push the Gryffindor away.

" _Ron_."

"Is this okay?" Ron searched Draco's face,

"Y-Yeah," the blonde mumbled. Ron tugged on his hand again and Draco's eyes flickered up at him hesitantly, before he looked away again. Still, he slid forward and Ron pulled him up so the Slytherin was safely in his arms, straddling his lap. The Gryffindor's hands rested on Draco's hips gently, ready to pull away if the blonde gave so much as a sign of discomfort.

"What now?" he whispered, as if they were not alone in the house. Ron had never seen Draco like this, so unsure, almost shy. He kept looking from Ron to somewhere else, as if he couldn't bear to look the Gryffindor in the eye. He had the longest eyelashes, his t-shirt was low enough so Ron could see the boy's collarbone peeking out from beneath. He wanted to kiss Draco all over, everywhere, "Ron?" Draco mumbled. Ron's hand slipped underneath Draco's shirt, and rested against his heated skin. Draco shivered.

They both moved at the same time. Slowly, hesitantly, they came closer to one another. Draco brushed his nose against Ron's, his gaze flickering up. Their faces were inches apart, Ron felt like he couldn't breathe, Draco's hands gripped the front of his shirt, he was still trembling. When his eyes fluttered closed, Ron kissed him.

It was so much different from those times before. Their kiss was soft, hesitant, their lips feather-light against each other. Ron pulled Draco a bit closer, so they were chest to chest, and he swore he could feel the other boy's heart, pounding against his chest. It was comforting to know that Draco was just as nervous as he was. They never did it like this, outside of heats. Ron felt intoxicated as he kissed a bit harder. Draco didn't shy away from the kiss, his arms came around Ron's neck and his lips parted underneath the other boy's. The Alpha's tongue slipped inside the blonde's mouth, and he was in familiar territory. Draco was all sugar and mint and a tiny bit of blood where he bit his lip. Ron kissed him slowly, throughoutly, his tongue swiping over the small cut on the other boy's lip.

Draco pulled away slightly so he could compose himself. He was shaking, his lips swollen.

"I could kiss you forever," Ron mumbled. Draco looked at him with big, silver eyes, and then he leaned back in for another kiss. This one was more heated, more desperate. Ron groaned as his hands slipped underneath Draco's shirt to run up his spine. Their tongues battled for dominance, their noses bumped, but it was goddamn perfect. Draco's hands gripped Ron's face, not allowing the boy to move away, not that Ron wanted to.

He kissed Draco just as feverishly, just as passionately. He had the words _I love you_ at the end of his tongue, but his tongue was currently in Draco's mouth so he couldn't exactly say it out loud. So he thought it in his head instead as he tugged Draco's jumper over his head, as he kissed and licked down the boy's long, pale neck, playing connect the dots with his love bites.  

"Fuck me," Draco growled. His words went right down to Ron's cock because it felt fucking fantastic knowing that Draco couldn't lie and that he  _actually_ wanted him.

Despite the sudden desperation in Ron, when he pushed Draco down into the pillows, it was gently. He didn't want it to be hot and hard like before, he wanted to _show_ Draco that he cared, he wanted to be soft an gentle and worship Draco the way he deserved to be worshiped.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Ron murmured into Draco's skin as he kissed down his body. His words caused the Slytherin to shiver and Ron came back up to kiss him again, "so fucking beautiful."

"S-Shut up," Draco said shakily. Ron smiled and kissed Draco's forehead, "D-Don't," Draco's voice was weirdly desperate. Ron pulled says and frowned but the other boy wasn't looking at him again, "Don't be so affectionate," he cleared his throat, "it's weird."

"You don't like it?" 

"N-No I do," Draco was clearly embarassed at his words, "it's just weird. You were never like this...b-before."

"'m sorry," Ron murmured as he pressed feather light kisses down Draco's jaw, feeling like his heart would jump from his chest, "'m sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't," Draco mumbled. Ron pressed their foreheads together, "you were my first y-you know..."

Ron's stomach clenched and he felt panic build up in him at Draco's sudden confession. He could barely remember their first time through the haze of heat and want he felt,

"Fuck," he whispered, voice shaky, "fuck I'm so-"

 "No," Draco mumbled, "no, shh, shut up it's f-fine-"

"I should've taken better care of you," Ron rambled. Draco kissed him, hard,

"I said it's fine," he growled, "Now  _fuck me._ "

Ron practically ripped Draco's trousers off of him before he got a hold of himself again. He nipped at Draco's sharp hipbones as he felt his dick swell up. He got a sudden bright idea, and he flipped Draco onto his stomach. He felt the boy tense,

"W-What are you doing?" Draco's voice was breathless.

"Taking care of you," Ron murmured and he kissed the inside of Draco's thigh.

"Turn t-the light off," the Slytherin's voice was muffled by the pillows.

"No," Ron growled. The air felt hot, "I want to see you, all of you, you're so perfect-"

"Stop, s-shut up," Draco managed weakly. Ron was about to say it, those three damn words, but instead he just bit the Slytherin's skin, causing Draco to whimper. Ron slipped the blonde's boxers off.

Draco's ass was pale and soft and fit perfectly into Ron's big hands when he squeezed it. He kissed one of the globes and then he pulled them apart to reveal Draco's rosy hole.

The second Ron licked a stripe across the pucker, Draco pressed his face into the pillow, his hands clutching the bedsheets.

"F-Fuck," he whined. Ron smriked and licked again. Draco's skin was salty, and when Ron dipped his wet tongue into the boy's hole, he moaned helplessly. 

"Merlin," he gasped, " _God..._ oh f-fuck...fuck..."

It felt good. It felt like Ron was marking Draco, making him properly his. He started fucking the boys hole, his tongue slipping in and out of the boy, making wet, squealching sounds. 

" _Ahh_ ," Draco cried out, toes curling, against the bed sheets. The Gryffindor's tongue twisted inside the boy, "Ron...R-Ron stop..."

"Why?" Ron pulled away long enough to ask.

"I'm...," Draco had to gasp for breath, "I'm gonna c-come..."

Ron's cock gave a twitch and he wanted nothing more than to make the Slytherin come just from his tongue. Well...he did want one thing more. He wanted to make love to Draco until the boy couldn't fucking walk.

Ron turned his mate around and his breath caught at how  _wrecked_ Draco looked, blissed out and flushed and looking like he was about to pass out. He was nestled among Ron's bright orange  _Chudley Cannons_ pillows, his hair spread around him like a halo. It was an image Ron never thought he'd see.

He brushed a few strands from Draco's sweaty forehead. The blonde pressed his hands to Ron's face and pulled him in for a wet, sloppy, gentle kiss.

"Good?" Ron asked. 

"Mhmm," Draco hummed in agreement, "will you fuck me now?"

"Anything you want," Ron's fingers trailed down Draco's thigh and then one pushed at his entrance. It was already wet from Ron's mouth.

As Ron fingered Draco, he watched the boy's every expression, every movement. When Ron brushed the little bundle of nerves inside of Draco, his toes curled. If his fingers twisted, Draco gasped, if they curled he let out a tiny little moan.

When Ron felt that he had memorized each expression, he withdrew his fingers. Draco's hands came up to clumsily tug Ron's shirt over his head and then to help him undo the buttons on his jeans.

When Ron's cock stood naked to full attention, Draco's hand wrapped around it. Ron chocked on air as Draco stroked him. The blonde wrapped his legs around the Gryffindor's waist and then guided his leaking cock inside of himself.

Ron watched as Draco's back arched as the Gryffindor slowly buried himself inside him. The blonde threw his head back, exposing the graceful line of his throat.

"Does it hurt?" Ron asked, as his body trembled. Draco was so perfectly hot and tight. Ron couldn't even understand how he could even have thought that the girl from the bar was anything compared to this wonderful boy in front of him.

"No," Draco's eyes were squeezed shut, "N-No God, it doesn't hurt..."

"You feel amazing," Ron intertwined their fingers together and pressed ten into the covers. Draco's chest was rising and falling desperately and Ron slowly pulled out, and then pushed back inside. Every thrust, Ron felt Draco's walls clench around him. 

"Ahh...Merlin I c-can't...," Draco gasped, his legs tighening around Ron and pulling him closer, and deeper inside of himself. Ron didn't speed his thrusts up, but he kept them deep and powerful, wrecking Draco's body.

"Mine," Ron growled as he fucked into Draco, "You're mine."

"Yes, yes, yes f-fuck-" the blonde's back arched, "only yours, R-Ron, I-I'm gonna come...," he sobbed. Ron reached down to wrap his hand around Draco's cock. The boy moaned loudly and Ron kissed him. He felt the blonde tense and splatter all over his hand as their tongues slid together. Draco was gasping as Ron continued to fuck him,

"Come on...," he mumbled. Draco clenched around Ron again and it sent the boy over the edge. 

***

Ron pulled out and then rolled over. A heavy silence settled over the boys and Draco slipped out of bed so he could tug on his boxers and a shirt. Ron's shirt. The Slytherin was comforted by the scratchy fabric against his skin. It smelled like Ron and stopped the panic building in his chest. The blonde tried to put his wall back up but all that was left of it were mismatched bricks that wouldn't make a whole anymore.  

He was near the door, his heart pounding. He didn't know what to do anymore; he was so fucking happy that he couldn't even string sentences together...but he didn't know how Ron felt. _What if he fucked me out of pity?_ Draco had a hand on the doorknob, wanting to get out. Decisions were easier in the morning, and besides, his knees were like candyfloss and he was ready to pass out.

"Where are you going?" Ron's voice startled him. Draco turned around hesitantly, knowing that the serum was still working. He didn't want to say anything stupid. _Like I love you._

"I...I was just..."

"Don't you wanna stay?" Ron looked a little bit lost, standing in the middle of his orange bedroom in just his boxers. Draco's legs shook,

"Yeah, I wanna stay but-" he bit his lip, not wanting to say anymore. Ron came over to him, slowly, carefully, as if Draco was a wounded animal. When they were just inches apart and Draco forgot how to breathe properly, Ron cupped his cheek and kissed him. It was a sweet, gentle kiss that made Draco want to cry, curl up against Ron and never leave.

"Just stay here," the Gryffindor mumbled, one of his hands hovering over Draco's hip, "I want you to stay. Really bad."

"Okay," Draco breathed out, "Okay."

The two boys climbed underneath the blankets and Ron flicked the light off. When he laid down next to Draco, the blonde pressed himself into the wall. He was scared to touch Ron, as if somehow that would break their little bubble.

"Why are you so scared?" Ron's voice floated from the darkness. Draco's eyes were just getting adjusted to the night, and he could make out the Alpha's outline against the pillows. They were both on their sides, facing each other.

"I...," Draco didn't know if he was ready to tell Ron everything. But maybe just some things, "I'm a traitor."

He saw Ron frown in the darkness,

"Where's this coming from?" he seemed confused, "You're not a trait-"

"Come off it," bitterness crept into Draco's voice, "I'm a traitor and you know it, and everyone knows it. Your brother is dead because of my decisions," his voice cracked and he found that he was shaking again. Tears made his vision blurry. _Why am I always crying? I'm so fucking weak._ "My mother's dead because of me-"

"No, no," Ron sounded so sad, like Draco was breaking his heart. He wrapped his arms around the boy, ignoring the his protests, and pulled the Slytherin close, "Shut up. It's not true. Not any of it. Yeah you made some stupid decisions but that's in the past, you're not a traitor."

"How can you say that?" Draco's voice was muffled by Ron's shoulder. His skin was warm, "After e-everything...I don't d-deserve you..."

Ron pulled away. He studied Draco in the darkness and the blonde desperately tried to keep his tears at bay. Then the Gryffindor reached for his hand and he turned it, to reveal the inside of his wrist.

"You think I don't notice these bandages?" he mumbled. Draco flinched, but Ron held on, "I care about you. I hate seeing you hurt." He brought Draco's wrist to his lips and kissed the bandages. Draco felt a warmth spread through him and he sniffed, fighting a sob, "These are not mine to take off." He let go of Draco's wrist, and gently touched his face, "And yeah you're an arrogant, snobbish prick-"

"Dick," Draco let out a snort that was half a laugh and half a sob. Ron cracked a smile,

"I love you."

Silence. Draco didn't think that Ron meant to say it then, but it came out and...

And...

Draco couldn't breathe. It was as if someone punched him. Everything inside him twisted in the most wonderful way and he sucked in air desperately.

"Draco?" Ron's voice was worried. Draco tried to pull away from him,

"Shut up," his voice was shaky, "S-Shut up, y-you liar," he choked on a sob, and suddenly he was crying and trying to get out, but Ron held onto him, gently but firmly, "I-It's not funny, w-why would you j-joke about something l-like that-"

Ron sat up and pulled Draco up with him. He tried to get the boy to try to stop squirming away, but it proved impossible.

"I'm not lying," he said as Draco fought him, " _Draco_."

"Y-you don't...let g-go..."

Ron did. He let Draco go and he got up from the bed and picked up the vial with the Veritaserum. Draco stared at him with wide, teary eyes, shaking like he was cold. His cheeks were wet, his heart hurt. Ron took a deep swallow of the truth serum and then turned back to Draco. The blonde watched him, his heart felt like it was going flutter out of his chest.

"I love you," Ron said firmly, "Draco I love you."

Draco shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. All he could see in front of him was Crabbe's body, and his father's worn out face, like a skull. The Dark Lord with his harsh words and his mother yelling at him, telling him he was worthless. Ron knelt down on the bed next to him and he gathered the blonde into his arms and kissed him all over his face, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw-line. Draco clung onto him,

"I love you, Draco. I love you so fucking much."

By the time Draco calmed down, dawn was maybe half an hour away, and the sky was lightening. Ron was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall, with Draco curled up in his strong arms. The Gryffindor would lean down to kiss the top of Draco's head every few minutes, and eventually it calmed Draco down.

"I'm sorry," his voice was hoarse when he finally found it again. He felt horrible, like the world had chewed him up and spat him out. His head pounded, his eyes ached. In response, Ron just leaned down to kiss him properly on the lips.

"I love you."

Draco found enough strength in him to turn around, so he was straddling the Gryffindor again. He knew he must've looked like a mess – pale, with red rimmed eyes, but Ron didn't seem to mind as he looked at him with a little small smile on his lips.

"I love you too, prick," Draco whispered and sniffed. Ron's smile widened,

"I'm glad 'cause otherwise this would've been pretty awkward."

Draco laughed. Ron kissed him. Both of the boys slipped back underneath the blankets and Ron wrapped himself around Draco protectively. The blonde buried his face in the Gryffindor's shoulder. They tried to sleep, but every few minutes one of them would kiss the other, and it was incredibly distracting. How they fell asleep, Draco had no idea.


	11. Of Dust and Boxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out FxckTrick, she's an awesome writer!

**Epilogue: Of Dust and Boxes**

The apartment was cold and grey, pale, watery sunlight filtered in through the windows to create patterns on the bare floor. It was July, and yet it was raining outside. There was a small layer of dust on the wooden floorboard and Draco sighed as he swished his wand, sending a box down gently to the floor, among the dust. It was cello taped shut, and labelled _Draco's candles_ in Ron's messy, scrawly handwriting.  

"This is the last one," said Ron informed his mate as he walked into the living room, levitating the final box down onto the rapidly growing stack in the middle. Draco was tired, his arms ached, his head throbbed, and he felt even more tired as he stared at all the boxes. He knew he'd soon have to unpack all of them, and that drained him. He had no idea how much stuff was in them.

"I'm so tired," Draco grumbled, "I'm not unpacking it, not today." Sometimes he was like a child.

Ron raised an unimpressed , eyebrow, "Oh really? Enlighten me on who the fuck will unpack it then."

"All those muscles _must_ be for something," Draco shrugged, unbothered. Ron rolled his eyes. Draco smiled , despite himself. Ron stood in the dusty living room of their new home, dressed in a flannel, his hair falling into his eyes. _He's mine, all mine,_ Draco thought fondly.

"I love you," he said. It came easy to him these days, saying it. His words seemed to startle Ron though, they always did, as if he didn't quite believe it sometimes. The Gryffindor blinked like an owl as if it was that day at Grimmauld all over again, when they had told each other for the first time. But the look didn't last long and then Ron was across the room, gathering Draco up into his arms and kissing him fiercely. Draco smiled and let Ron carry him to the bedroom, ignoring the stack of boxes waiting to be unpacked.

When they were done, it was evening. Ron forced himself out of bed, whining and complaining about the cold as he tugged his jeans back on.

"Do it tomorrow," Draco grumbled from the mattress that was their bed for now, stretched out lazily.

"If we don't do it now, it won't ever get done-"

" _Ron."_

"Fine," Ron sighed, because he really couldn't be fucked. He much preferred to lie in bed with Draco and kiss him until they both fell asleep. But he couldn't,  "But get up. It's only eight, we can go out to dinner."

"What? Right now?" Draco propped himself up on one arm, the blankets pooling around his waist. He looked like a lazy cat, his eyes half-lidded, a line of love bites decorating his neck and collarbone.

"Yeah, come on, twat," Ron picked up a jumper from the floor, "get dressed before you catch a cold. There's a nice Italian place around the corner," he threw the jumper at the boy. Draco rolled his eyes but dragged himself to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, yawned, and tried to sort out his hair, "Hurry up!" Ron called in annoyance. It made Draco roll his eyes.

"Relax!" he yelled back, "Geez, so fucking impatient," the Slytherin grumbled to himself as he tugged the jumper over his head. It was scratchy and worn, made of green wool, with a silver 'D' at the front. Draco's own Weasley sweater.

" _Draco_!"

 He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to;  
> aaaaaaa  
> BeRandom2  
> Catreader  
> ChenChenFTW  
> chloebb124  
> fluffycloudsofphan  
> ForrestFox  
> Jenna  
> maedeh  
> montselech  
> ProbablyAFakeName  
> ReaDUntiLYoUDiE  
> Samicolson  
> sinbin  
> terramarie  
> And please check out my original work - Padrilon's Bastards (I put all the heart and soul I have left into it so please check it out and leave me some kudos and a comment if you like it thankyou, love you all :*


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